Excelsior
by Kako
Summary: In the magical world on the other side of Britain, seven Lords fight for the right to be crowned king by undertaking a quest to find a medallion. And how does Hermione Granger fit into its plan? AU, HG/TR
1. Chapter 1

_Excelsior_

Genre: Fantasy/Romance

Rating: T for Violence, Language, Character deaths, etc.

Disclaimer: I don't own HP.

Summary: In the magical world on the other side of Britain, seven Lords fight for the right to be crowned king by undertaking a quest to find a medallion. And how does Hermione Granger fit into its plan? AU, HG/TR

A/N: And here we go again, into the wonderful world of HG/TR. Yes, wonderful, because this is a completely fantasy AU story. The plot has some very very loose basings on the novel/movie _Stardust_, but just in the fact of the separate kingdom of magic, and the quest for the pendant. I'm not making Hermione a star, that's just way too cliché.

This fanfic is for everyone who wants a happy ending to their HG/TR fics. Therefore, I'll be taking some extreme liberties with the characters. Characterization? Was that what just went flying out the window? Just kidding, but this is not the place for you if you want to read about a dark, depressing, abusive Tom. In lieu of canon, I am going to be focusing on taking events from all 7 books and weaving them together in this fantasy epic. I prefer romantic, funny, heartwarming tales, and that is exactly what you, the reader, are in store for. Enjoy!

--Kako

* * *

"_I have a story to tell you. It has many beginnings, and perhaps one ending. Perhaps not. Beginnings and endings are contingent things anyway; inventions, devices. Where does any story really begin? There is always context, always an encompassingly greater epic, always something before the described events, unless we are to start every story with "BANG! __**Expand!**__ Sssss…," then itemize the whole subsequent history of the universe before settling down, at last, to the particular tale in question. Similarly, no ending is final, unless it is the end of all things…"_

_The Algebraist__, Iain M. Banks_

* * *

Chapter One

There are two worlds on this earth, completely separate from one another, although they both are so woven together that it is hard to distinguish the two if you look at the way they have evolved over time. The world of magic lies immediately next to the world of man, with one small bridge between the two realms.

I am talking, of course, about the wall. The Wall, as it is called by residents on the non-magical side close to the border, is a nearly ten feet high stone structure seeming to span hundreds of miles, although no 

one has ever traveled the whole length of it. The Wall is almost a daily fixture in the lives of people living in the villages near it, and no one dares to go over it, or through the one gap just wide enough for an average-sized man.

They do not know of the terrible wonders and amazing miracles that go on in this other world. No one who has ever gone to the other side has ever returned, whether by death or reasons of their own.

But describing our world and the realm of magic takes a different kind of approach.

There are four kingdoms in the world of magic, each ruled by their particular King or Queen. Ravenclaw, in the south, Hufflepuff, in the west, Gryffindor in the North, and Slytherin in the east. While the four kingdoms are never at war, they are never truly at peace either, for the citizens of the four kingdoms are forever fighting with one another and rivalries among the families of magic stretch as deep as the blood running through their veins.

A long time ago, Magic used to run rampant through the fields of Hufflepuff and the glens of Ravenclaw, over the mountains of Slytherin and the glaciers and highlands of Gryffindor. Then the four rulers of each of the kingdoms came together with the purpose of trying to tame the magic. Each were good friends then, and had joined together to create a school to teach young children about magic, located at the very center of the four kingdoms, and with a House to represent each.

The four monarchs decided to contain all the free magic inside talismans or objects of great historical or aesthetic power. They considered the free-roaming magic wasted, and if contained, they believed the whole power of the magic could be fully utilized. Weapons, jewelry, crowns, and heirlooms were all given traces of magic, and the free, untamed magic that had roamed the valleys freely was lost forever. Without the traces of magic in the air and soil across the four kingdoms, apparition, the act of instantaneous travel, was also impossible.

Unable to wield magic on their own, wizards and witches (as the inhabitants of the world of magic were called; male and female, respectively) needed to control an item with magic inside in order to cast simple spells.

Still, magic was never meant to be controlled. Over time, all of the objects were either lost to the times or secluded by the great magical families of the day, conserving their magic and building their power.

Over time, the kingdoms began not to fall, but to fade away. The Queen of Ravenclaw, Rowena, had mysteriously abandoned her castle and was never seen from again. The King of Gryffindor, Godric, had been injured in a fierce battle with the northern giants, and was unable to rule his kingdom with the same bravery and skill he had in the past. Hufflepuff was always a sparsely populated region, but Helga, the Queen, had recently decided to live out the rest of her life in a hidden cottage in the forest, forsaking the rest of the world. And Salazar, the King of Slytherin, was on his deathbed after having been poisoned, but by one of the regent's hands or his own was never known, waiting for the seven Lords of the kingdom to gather and hear who would be the next King of Slytherin.

Which brings us to the start of our story…

* * *

Salazar's reddened eyes surveyed the opulent room, watching the six assembled Lords with little interest. Over the centuries, his health had been slowly declining, as had all of the founders of the four kingdoms. Along with the items they had imprisoned magic into, the monarchs had also forced some of the magic into their own bodies, keeping them alive long past a person's normal lifespan, magical or not.

_Six of my Lords are here,_ Salazar thought, assessing the calculated looks on each of the regents. None of them truly cared, they were all only interested in furthering their own interests. But, as he had no true heir, he was obligated by law to choose an heir from his Lords. Each was the head of one of the old magical families, and each had been made soft by years of luxury and the declining magic of their crests.

_Yaxley, Rosier, Dolohov, Malfoy, and the two Lestrange brothers_, Salazar counted. _But one is missing_.

"Where is my seventh prince?" Salazar asked, his voice weak with illness. Lucius Malfoy, the oldest of the seven, answered. "Why do you need him? You must have chosen your successor already?" It was obvious the tall blond already thought himself King.

The green velvet curtains covering the walls of the ornate bedchamber muffled the sounds of thick leather boots tapping an imperious walk down the marble hallway outside the King's Chambers. They did little to muffle the effect, however, as the seventh and final Lord of Slytherin swung open the double doors and strode inside the room, his eyes meeting every one of his fellow Lords in a silent nod of greeting before moving to his King's bedside.

"Where were you?" Lucius asked sardonically, doing little to hide his glare. "I was slaying trolls by the northern border when I got the news," Tom Riddle replied curtly, ignoring his elder Lord's presence as he turned away from the blond patriarch. _Not that you have any right to know my business, although you so flagrantly display yours_, he thought distastefully.

"Now that all my princes are here, there is the matter of my heir to discuss," Salazar said, sitting up in his bed as he pulled his heavy silver medallion bearing the antediluvian crest of the Kingdom from under his robes, the light from the crystal chandeliers and light making the encrusted emeralds gleam dully. These were uncut stones, with no question as to their authenticity.

"Yes, my King, which of us will rule Slytherin after your death?" Lucius asked, already standing at attention as if to receive his tribute.

"As all of you are fit to rule in status, I will be devising a quest to test your abilities," Salazar said, his voice hoarse from exhaustion.

At once, the seven princes straightened, their masks of indifference or nobility dropping into looks of pure shock, and in Lucius' case, rage.

"A test?" He asked, his mouth curling grotesquely.

"Yes," he said, unfastening the pendant with magic, and holding it in his hand, a smile on his face, almost in appreciation of the incredible magic housed inside. "Whoever can find this medallion and 

return here to the castle with it will be able to claim the kingship," he said as a flash of magic illuminated the entire room, the pendant flying out of Salazar's hands and arcing across the room, both Lestranges jumping into the air to try and grab it as it soared out of the window, heading for parts unknown as the streak of white light became imperceptible as the pendant crossed the border.

And above all, the cackle of the first King of Slytherin resounded as he drew his last breath, and died.

The race for the kingship was on.

* * *

In the middle of the four kingdoms, in the town of Hogsmeade, a woman named Hermione Granger sat in the bookstore, a heavy tome on the history of the nearby school half-read in her lap. She turned another page, a look of pure serenity on her features as she brushed a lock of stubbornly curly hair behind her ears.

"Hermione!" The voice of Flourish and Blott's owner, Nicolas Flourish, shook her out of her literary-induced reverie. She looked up, cringing and blushing slightly at the expression on her employer's face.

"You should be working, not reading!" He chastised her, reaching to grab the book from her fingers. He walked down an aisle, carefully tucking the book back into its proper place.

"But it's my favorite," Hermione whispered softly, frowning. She'd have to finish the book again during her lunch break.

"I have to step out for a few minutes, can you watch the shop?" Nicolas asked Hermione, who nodded resolutely. "And no reading till I get back! Then you can have your break," he told her, a smile gracing his weathered features.

Hermione moved to stand behind the counter in the front of the small bookstore. She had decided to work here immediately upon graduating from Hogwart's School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, in the dead center of the four surrounding kingdoms. She frowned slightly, propping her chin on one hand as she leaned over the counter. _Not like I had much of a choice for my profession, even though my grades were near the top of the class_.

Hermione was an orphan, and what some called a "Muggle-born." She had been taken from across the Wall when she was very little, and had no memory of her past life. As an orphan, she had no magical talisman of her own and no Kingdom to call home, so this unaligned town in the middle was the only place that would take her in.

Although working in a bookstore suited Hermione Granger. She had all the knowledge she could want, right at her fingertips. She read books everyday, and for free. The pay was ample enough for a modest flat further in the town, and enough food so she wouldn't go hungry. The only thing Hermione Granger missed was a sense of adventure. Her life had become both boring and predictable, with nothing to separate one day from the next.

She absentmindedly drew her fingers across one corner of a newspaper in the corner of the counter. _The Daily Prophet_, she read upside-down. The preferred paper of all the Kingdoms.

Hermione noticed a loose book sitting on the edge of the counter. She picked it up, studying the spine. _Memoryes and Magick_, _by Hereward Nightridge_, she read, deftly picking it up and moving from behind the counter and down an aisle, locating the proper place for that particular tome.

"It should belong here_,_" she muttered, sliding the book into place just as a blinding white light burst through the bookstore, stunning Hermione as she blinked through the brightness, one hand outstretched as to block the light from her eyes.

Suddenly the light receded, and Hermione became aware of the heavy pendant that lay in her outstretched hand. She gasped, taking a step back as her hand wavered from the peculiarity of the situation and the weight of the pendant. She lifted it closer, nudging the book into the shelf as she studied the inscription on the pendant.

She traced the sharp outline with her finger, following the twisting, writhing snake inside a double circle, imprints of roses and other flowers light across the background. She turned the amulet in her hands, angling it so the snake seemed to form a letter '_S_' across the entire pendant. _S for _Slytherin, she thought. She shifted the thick chain in her hands, holding it up. Curious, she let it unfold. It was of the perfect length….

Slowly, and with trembling fingers, Hermione lifted the pendant towards her head and slipped it over her neck. She lifted her hair out from under the chain, letting the medallion settle against her chest. She picked it up in her fingers, amazed at how light it felt when she was wearing it.

Suddenly, a bright light filled the bookstore again, but less blinding than the last time. Hermione covered her eyes, and when she lowered her hands a pale ghost stood before her, a bemused expression on its face. From the gaunt features and long, grayish-white hair and beard, Hermione knew the figure she was looking at, recognizing him from the book she was just reading about the formation of the school, was Salazar Slytherin, the first king of that Kingdom.

"Ah, so my medallion has been sent to you?" Salazar spoke first. She sensed only a hint of irony in his voice at the situation before him.

"What does this mean?" She asked, her fingers still clenched around its slightly oval silver frame.

"I do not have much time," Salazar continued. "There are several things you must know about that pendant. From now, you are the guardian of its magic. It can never be taken from you unless you give it willingly."

Hermione nodded slowly. "I have set my Lords with a test. Whichever one of them you deem worthy to receive that medallion will become the new King."

"Then, you are dead?" She asked, biting her lip. At Salazar's subtle nod, her eyes flooded with concern. "I'm sorry," she told him.

"Do not be, it is time for a new order. It is that way in all four Kingdoms," he said. Hermione noticed the edges of his figure seemed to be fading into the surroundings of the bookshelves. "I am moving on. I will be watching your progress from the heavens," he said, finally disappearing completely.

Hermione opened her mouth as if to say something, then closed it swiftly. She had so many questions. She didn't know any of the Lords of Slytherin, and truly didn't care. She didn't want to be a part of their stupid test! How dare they involve her? What could she possibly add to it?

She was interrupted by the clanging of the bell over the door. Hermione hurriedly shoved the pendant under her robes, hurrying back to the front to see that Nicolas had returned.

"Not reading again on the job, were you?" He joked. Hermione shook her head. "I was re-shelving some books," she answered truthfully, leaving out the part about the pendant. She didn't want to involve anyone more than necessary in this quest of Salazar's. If the ruthless, cunning nature of the ruler was any indication, she knew the Lords would kill for this power.

Her blood froze. She needed to get out of here, and fast. Even normal wizards and witches who were not in line for the crown would want the power. She couldn't trust anyone.

"You _do_ know you can take your lunch break now," Nicolas told her as he straightened the stack of newspapers on the counter. Hermione just nodded, moving out of the bookstore and into the streets of Hogsmeade without another word.

Behind, Nicolas chuckled to himself. "Strange girl…looked like she just saw a ghost or something."

* * *

Tom Riddle sat in a plush green velvet armchair in a lounge room in the castle of Slytherin, leaning back lazily as he swirled a shot of firewhiskey around in a tiny shot glass. Slowly, two of the other Lords, Evan Rosier and Antonin Dolohov, walked into the room, stopping their conversation abruptly upon catching sight of Tom.

"Gentlemen," he announced to them, spreading his arm towards the decanter of whiskey on the table. "Won't you join me in a drink?"

Rosier agreed immediately, walking across the room quickly and sitting down in a chair opposite Tom, pouring himself a glass of the dark amber liquid. He shot a look at Dolohov, who was eyeing the liquor apprehensively. "Join us in a toast, friend!" Rosier said jovially, raising his glass.

Sighing, Dolohov joined them at the table, pouring himself a shot, although a smaller one.

"We were discussing possible alliances for the crown," Rosier said as Dolohov lifted his glass to join Rosier's for the toast. "Would you like to join us?"

Tom fought to hold back his smirk at Rosier's offer. "For the crown," he said, raising his glass in the toast.

"For the crown," the two echoed dutifully, knocking back their shots of firewhiskey, Tom waiting a few seconds later with the glass poised at his lips. Slowly he tilted the alcohol down, savoring the burn of the liquor as he let it linger on his tongue before swallowing.

He let his smirk free as the two set their glasses down sharply, Rosier already reaching for the decanter. His arm abruptly stopped halfway there as his eyes widened sharply, his other hand reaching up to grab his throat as it constricted, severing the air connection as the tasteless, odorless poison in the alcohol did its job.

Rosier fell out of the chair, the strangled noises from his throat ceasing after a few seconds.

Dolohov looked up sharply, glancing from the decanter back to Tom, his eyes widening as he experienced the same reactions, his throat closing as the poison took effect, killing him silently. He too fell onto the floor, Tom leaning back in his chair as he pulled the separate bottle of firewhiskey from the opposite side of his chair, lifting the bottle and taking a healthy mouthful.

_Those fools_, he thought. _I make deals with no one. _I_ will be King, and no other_.

And with that, Tom leaned back even further to rest his feet on the antique table as he took another drink.

* * *

A/N: How's that for the opening? Next chapter, Riddle and Hermione will meet! From this point on, I will also be branching out from the 'Stardust' themes, as Hermione is obviously not a star. Also, '_Excelsior_' means 'ever upward' in Latin, that ties in to the 'stardust' aspects of the plot. Also, anyone catch the allusion to my other HG/TR fic, Just Let Me Wake Up Already? xD

Reviews are my crack! Feed my habit! xD Just kidding, but reviews would be greatly appreciated so I know where to go from here and what you all liked about it!


	2. Chapter 2

Excelsior

A HUGE thank-you to everyone who reviewed the first chapter! Seriously, you have no idea how happy I am that the first chapter got such a great reception. To: xXTwilight PrincessXx, LestatsLittleGirl, irene0222, 3rdplanet, Anna, xGabriellaxBolton, Sakura Takanouch, and 00Jade! Thank you!

* * *

_Recap of Chapter One:_

_Those fools, he thought. I make deals with no one. I will be King, and no other._

_And with that, Tom leaned back even further to rest his feet on the antique table as he took another drink_.

Chapter Two

Tom finished his firewhiskey in a leisurely pace, not worried at all about the others reaching the medallion before him. They all had no clues as to where the pendant might be, but Tom knew it was beyond the borders of Slytherin. It would never have been sent to someone inside the kingdom; they would clearly recognize it for what it was. If anything, it would be sent somewhere far from the kingdom, but not _too _far. Possibly in Hufflepuff—the people were so interspersed that no one would notice what appeared to be a shooting star streaking across the sky.

Tom paused for a moment, letting the bottle rest back on the table. _I'm trying to psychoanalyze a pendant. That must mean I've had too much of this_, he thought with an amused laugh.

Tonight, he would rest. Tomorrow, he would head to Hogsmeade, the neutral city in the exact middle of the four kingdoms. By asking anyone who had seen the mysterious astronomical anomaly fly through the sky, he would be able to tell what direction it had flown, and which of the four kingdoms it was taking refuge in.

_Yes_, he thought, feeling his eyes close from a combination of the alcohol he had consumed and the lateness of the hour. _All in good time. I _will _be King, and nothing is going to stop me_.

Tom rose from his chair, vanishing the two bottles of firewhiskey and the three glasses. While he was slightly intoxicated, he still had enough sense not to go to sleep in what was practically the middle of a murder site. As all the Lords had rooms in the main castle, that is where he would return for the night.

Later he slept, visions of silver snakes and glittering emeralds dancing across his dreams. He _would_ find the pendant—and heaven help anyone who stood in the way of a sober Tom Riddle.

* * *

Hermione ended up not eating a bite for lunch. She was too unnerved to be hungry, and after what had happened just under an hour ago, she felt she was justified. She found it hard to ignore the heavy pendant tucked neatly under her robes, and found it equally hard to concentrate during the remainder of her working shift. Nicolas Flourish ended up sending her home early, and Hermione left gratefully.

She left for her modest flat on one of the side streets away from the main shopping street. She headed inside quickly, making sure to lock the door and close the blinds before taking the pendant out from under her cloak. It rested heavily against her neck, but the chain was oddly warm. It seemed to be pulsing with some kind of latent energy, but Hermione couldn't tell what it was.

She kept running Salazar's words through her head, "_from now, you are the guardian of its magic. It can never be taken from you unless you give it willingly._"

Hermione held the chain in her fingers, about to pull it over her head. She hesitated, letting it fall back down to rest below the hollow of her throat. _Maybe I should just leave it on. I can keep it safer if I know it's always with me_, she thought.

More confused than ever, and unsure as to how she was going to fulfill Salazar's strange will, Hermione tried to stick to her usual evening routine. She went to sleep early, but her nerves were too on edge for her to sleep. For the first time that day, she fully realized the responsibility she had been given.

_I've been given the entire power of the Kingdom of Slytherin,_ she thought with awe. _For some reason, _**I** _have to decide what happens with it._

_I have to protect it_, she resolved. _I will do whatever I can to keep it safe. _

She tried to ignore the sinking feeling in her stomach that seemed to cry, "_Safe from whom?_"

She lay awake for several hours, tossing and turning until she finally dropped off into a restless sleep devoid of both dreams or nightmares, but with the strange feeling in her thoughts that even if she _were_ to dream, it wouldn't even _begin_ to compare with the strange events the day had brought her.

* * *

The next day, Tom sat in his black carriage, drawn by a team of six perfectly matched black thoroughbreds. Dawn had just risen over the clear sky, and already Tom could no longer see the castle, or the tall mountain the castle was situated on. Instead, he was driving alone on a dirt path, with tall evergreen trees the only things around him for miles. He would reach Hogsmeade within the day.

He was not as alone as he thought. Less than a mile behind him, Rabastan Lestrange raced on his own horse, green cloak whipping around him in the cool morning breeze. He had heard of the mysterious death of two of the seven Lords that morning, and had also seen Tom Riddle leaving the castle with his coach-and-six. He knew Tom was on to something; Tom had always been one of the cleverest, most perceptive of all the Slytherin Lords. Rabastan figured that Tom could lead him right to the amulet. And then, he would be the one to take it from right under his nose.

He was positive Tom was still unaware of his pursuit. The man thought he was uncatchable, that he could outthink and outwit anyone who dared to compete with him. That alone would work in Rabastan's advantage. He was just upset that Tom had gotten to Rosier and Dolohov before he did. He had never been one for alliances either—even his own brother had left the castle that night and Rabastan hadn't 

heard from him since the gathering. Lucius had retreated back to his own manor, probably to strategize and monitor the progress of the other competitors—if Rabastan wasn't so convinced that Tom was the killer of both Rosier and Dolohov he would have believed the blond-haired Malfoy patriarch was the one who did them in. It did seem his style—the rumor was that the two had been poisoned.

_Although Riddle's style would be to frame others_, Rabastan thought as he increased to a full-out gallop. He wouldn't let this opportunity slip away. Just the chance at the power of the Kingdom of Slytherin was worth any cost.

Later that afternoon Rabastan finally made it into Hogsmeade, putting his horse in a community stable and heading towards the main street. He had taken a shortcut a dozen miles back or so, and was fairly certain he had passed Tom.

He headed to a bar first; he figured that would be where he was most likely to hear the most about a "shooting star" or anything that could refer to the pendant. He noticed the worn sign that read, '_The Three Broomsticks_' before joining the loud interior of the pub-and-inn. He took a seat at the bar, signaling the bartender with a wave of his hand.

"What'll it be?" The bartender, a dark-haired woman in her late twenties, asked as she leaned against the back of the counter.

"Ogden's, and some information," he told her, sliding several Galleons across to pay for both requests.

"Of course," she responded, turning and reaching on a shelf for the familiar dark glass bottle, pouring a generous measure of the amber liquid in a glass. She returned the bottle to the shelf and placed the glass in front of Rabastan, who sipped it cautiously. He still needed to keep his mind clear.

"What do you need to know?" She asked. There was no need to lower her voice; the inside of the bar was packed with patrons, and each seemed to be having their own loud conversations. If there were any chances he could be heard in the raucous bar, they were slim to none.

"Did you happen to notice a shooting star crossing the sky yesterday?" Rabastan asked, trying to make his voice sound level and detached. At the barmaid's puzzled expression, Rabastan was confused himself.

"It was very bright. Came from the East," he continued, offering even more details. Suddenly, the barmaid's eyes lit up in realization. "Maybe…there was this strange bright light that lit up the entire Main Street yesterday afternoon. I thought we were in the middle of an eclipse, or someone had tried to light the Shrieking Shack on fire again," the woman laughed slightly.

At her information, Rabastan's eyes began to glow with a feral intensity. Of all the luck…he had never _hoped_ the amulet might be in this very village!

"Did you happen to notice the source of the light? Or where it went?" Rabastan asked excitedly. Oh, if he got to it first, he could use its powers to subvert the other contenders for the throne.

"I don't know. Around the block in the middle of the street was where it was brightest," she shrugged. "From the Owlery to Honeyduke's."

Rabastan could barely contain his exhilaration at being so close to the medallion. It was like he could already feel it hanging around his neck, the weight of the crown on his brow. _Soon,_ he told himself.

Without another word, he left his chair abruptly, without a word of thanks or gratitude to the woman who'd provided the information. He left the unfinished and practically untouched shot of liquor behind, glad he had not indulged in its warmth. With the added adrenaline of knowing the medallion could be within this very town, the hand holding his wand at his side was shaking.

He walked outside the pub and into the street outside, weaving past witches and wizards and shopping students alike. He paused, glancing across the street. He was right where the barmaid had said the light was brightest; the Owlery was on his left and Honeyduke's was several shops over. He noticed a small bookstore in-between them and approached it, another smile on his face. Bookstore clerks were paid to notice _everything_. Hopefully, someone there would be able to give him even _more_ information about the pendant. No one here should know of its full value. Word should already have spread throughout the village. All he had to do was pay the witch of wizard who found it a small fee to convince them to hand it over, and then possibly kill them. It wouldn't do for one of the other Lords to realize _who_ had gotten to the medallion first before he had a chance to return to the castle.

His mind was so determined with the task at hand as he walked across the street and entered the bookstore that he failed to notice the cloaked figure that watched him from the corner of another building, a thin smirk etched clearly on his face.

Rabastan entered the bookstore, smiling slightly at the faded sign above the door and on the windows that read '_Flourish and Blotts, est. 1726.' _He remembered the companion store to this little bookstore in Diagon Alley, and remembered buying his own school books there in his own Hogwarts days.

There was a single employee behind the counter at the front, aimlessly turning pages of the _Daily Prophet_ newspaper. She looked up when Rabastan entered, and asked, "Can I help you?"

Rabastan noticed her voice was shaking slightly. Something had unnerved her recently. Could it have something to do with the amulet? He grinned, eyeing the open newspaper on the desk. Bookstore employees weren't complete idiots. She would be instantly on guard if he tried the same tactic of gathering information that he used in the _Three Broomsticks_.

"Yes, I am from the _Daily Prophet_. I have heard that there was a bright light in the middle of the street yesterday, and we are investigating it," Rabastan said, hoping his cover story was believable.

* * *

"Oh," Hermione said, visibly tensing as she suspiciously eyed the cloaked stranger. Hermione had seen _Daily Prophet_ staff before, and none of the reporters looked like this. Not even the photographers.

_What's his real angle?_ She thought, feeling both curious and a little wary. The pendant itched on her skin, and it seemed to be warning her of something. The paranoid feeling from the previous night returned.

"Yes, there was, I heard about it," Hermione answered. "But I was in the back re-shelving books, so I didn't see it very well." The first part was truth; the second was a complete lie. Hermione twisted uncomfortably behind the counter. She'd probably seen the light best of all.

* * *

"Is that so?" Rabastan asked. He was aware the witch didn't trust him; that was plain from her body language and the way she'd turned away and looked down when she told him her side of the story. It was like she was hiding something.

His eyes narrowed. _What _is_ she hiding? _He scanned her body, the regulation long dark navy robes nothing out of the ordinary. He stopped as he eyed a strange pucker in the front of the robe near her throat. It was round in shape and _could_ resemble a pendant of the same size as the one he himself was searching for. _Could it be?_

* * *

Tom Riddle stood outside the bookstore, disillusioned. He was reading the lips of the two people engaged in conversation inside, and had raised an eyebrow at Rabastan's interesting cover story.

The powers of the amulet had never been expressly stated, and Tom was not one to rush into this unarmed. He would follow Rabastan, and hopefully he would lead him right to the pendant.

He tapped one booted foot impatiently. This was taking far too long. With his thumb rubbing over the black stone on the heavy gold ring on his third finger, Tom cast a simple spell straight at Rabastan.

'_Legilimens_.'

Instantly, Tom bit back a swear. Rabastan thought the woman in _there_ had the medallion? And she was _wearing_ it?

This wasn't good.

That changed things significantly. If she had somehow become aware of the powers the medallion held, or got into a fight with Rabastan, things could get ugly and fast. They were in the middle of a crowded city, people would notice if suddenly the bookstore worker ran out into the streets screaming. The Lords of Slytherin weren't that widely known, but if Rabastan or himself were recognized, this could turn into a field day for the press. The Kingdom would be vulnerable, and the entire populace of all _four_ Kingdoms would be searching for the amulet.

His eyes were drawn back upward by the dark sneer on Rabastan's usually calculating features. He leaned over the counter, his long fingers gripping the edge tightly as to warn the girl from running away.

His eyes drew back to the girl who supposedly had the amulet. She glared back at Rabastan, standing up to him bravely.

Her reaction slightly unsettled Tom. _Maybe she _does_ know about the secrets of the amulet?_

He almost reached for the round doorknob to rush into the small bookstore, but he still wanted to see what Rabastan would do. He had underestimated the amulet's power when it had become the subject of their quest, and he wasn't going to make any more mistakes concerning it in the future.

Inside the bookstore, the girl had tried to dart to the side towards the door, but Rabastan had pulled her out from behind the counter and slammed her into the front of it, reaching around her neck to pull out the thick silver chain of the gleaming amulet.

Tom stiffened, a mixture of anxiety and deep satisfaction on his face. The amulet was there, mere feet from him, but even closer to Rabastan.

Rabastan grinned evilly, and Tom saw him reach for the amulet, his fingers closing swiftly around the oval silver frame, the look of horror clear on her face. She opened her mouth to say something to the Slytherin Lord when he drew back, his scream covering up any sounds she might have made. Tom quickly put a silencing charm on the bookstore, anger bubbling up inside him as he saw the deep burn markings etched in Rabastan's hand, the crisscrossing snakes burned into his hand.

_So, the amulet cannot be taken from her? _He thought with rage. _How in the hell am I supposed to get it then? I have no way of knowing if killing her will release the amulet from her control, and I am not about to experiment that in case she is linked to the amulet more deeply than I have seen._

He had to smirk at the only remaining option that presented itself to him. She would have to give him the amulet willingly, and of her own free will. He would have to 'befriend' the girl, and make her trust him. He'd waited this long for the Kingship; what were another several days to him?

Tom looked up again to see the murderous glint in Rabastan's eyes. He leaped forward, his hands encircling the girl's throat as she tried to defend herself, weakly pushing against his arms in an attempt to push him away.

_Damn. Well, I was always planning on killing Rabastan anyway, _he thought as he threw open the door, abolishing the disillusionment charm as he pulled Rabastan off the girl with a flick of his hand, the black stone again taking on a strange gleam.

Rabastan's eyes went wide with recognition at the sight of Tom, and his own narrowed in determination. _I will not have him spoil my plans. _

"Avada Kadavra!" He cast, filling the store with an eerie green light as the life of Rabastan Lestrange was extinguished from this world, the name of his killer frozen on the brink of vocalization. Tom turned to the shaken store clerk, trying to display some measure of concern in his expression. "Are you alright?"

She nodded, grasping the amulet for support as she leaned against the counter, still shaking after witnessing her assailant's murder.

"What is your name?" Tom asked.

"Hermione Granger," she replied, noticing how his eyes kept staring at the pendant curiously.

"My name is Tom Riddle," he said, taking Hermione's elbow and starting to pull her towards the door of the bookstore. "Come on, we have to leave the city," he continued.

"Leave the…_what_?" Hermione asked, digging her heels into the carpet and grabbing onto the counter to stop Tom from dragging her further. True, at the moment she owed this man her life, but she wasn't about to do anything he said without getting some answers of her own first.

She studied her opportune rescuer. _Tom Riddle_, she thought. The man had short dark hair that seemed to be arranged perfectly, and smoldering black eyes. He was good looking; she had to admit it.

"It is quite simple," Tom responded shortly, dropping her arm. "Are you aware of what it is that you possess?"

Hermione assumed he meant the amulet. So far, she believed she could trust this man. He _had_ just saved her life. "Yes, I am. It's the amulet of the Kingdom of Slytherin, right?"

Keeping back a scowl at the fact that she did know about the amulet, Tom nodded. "And this man," he said, pointing to the fallen Rabastan, "was one of the seven Lords after it. Do you have _any_ idea what the others would do to you if they found you here? Once _he_ is discovered, the others will know the amulet was here."

"I'll protect it," huffed Hermione. Tom nearly rolled his eyes at her stubbornness.

"Yes, and that worked _so_ well several minutes ago," he told her dryly.

Hermione crossed her arms, still rooted to the spot. "Then how to you propose I protect it then?"

She was too fatigued and stressed to notice the smirk that sprang up on Tom's face, or the hidden intent behind his next words. "Well, _I'll_ protect you _and_ the amulet then, of course."

Hermione was grateful she was holding on to the counter, or her legs would have collapsed under her a long time ago. All in under twenty-four hours, she had received a strange amulet, spoken to a ghost, been assaulted by a stranger, saw that same stranger dead by the hand of the man in front of her offering her his protection, and then asked to leave the city that was her home.

Although she knew Tom's asking was only a formality, he seemed bent on protecting this medallion at all costs. And if she insisted on it remaining with her, then he would protect her as well by extension.

_Damn you, Salazar_, she thought as she gritted her teeth. There really was no other way, was there?

Hermione was struck with a sudden insight. _She'd _explained how she knew what she did about the amulet, but Tom had yet to divulge how he acquired _his_ knowledge.

"How do you know about this?" Hermione asked, fingers clenching around the silver pendant.

"Easy. I come from Slytherin, I work in the castle," Tom replied casually. "I'm a page for the King, as well as a soldier when need be. I learned about the King's death immediately, and heard about the quest for the Lords. None of the oth—them deserve this honor!" Tom spat. "I followed the first one to leave, and they led me here."

Hermione was slowly trying to make sense of this situation; if the other six Lords were aware that one of their own had died here, they would probably assume the amulet was here as well and be drawn to it like a magnet. Even though Salazar had warned her about their quest, she hadn't realized what it might cost her.

"We have to go, now," Tom said, stressing the importance of the situation. Hermione knew it wouldn't be long before her boss returned, and it was a minor miracle that no one else had entered the store yet. Hermione nodded quietly as Tom pulled her out of the store and onto the busy street, Hermione dimly registering that none of the passersby seemed to acknowledge what had gone on just moments before.

_Well, at least I've always wanted to travel_, she thought, trying to find some optimism in the situation. She had wanted adventure and excitement, and now she had it in spades.

They hurried up the street towards the stables, Tom pushing aside the heavy swinging door as he entered, Hermione gingerly catching it behind her as she walked in behind him.

Tom eyed his black coach, and then spotted the horse that obviously belonged to Rabastan from the green-accented bridle and saddle, with black leather saddlebags holding provisions on the side. _The coach will be too bulky to travel some of the smaller roads_, he thought._ The provisions will be enough to get us to one of the other major cities_, _and soon I will be able to draw out the other Lords. Once Hermione has given me her complete trust, she will give me the amulet. _

"Was that one his?" Hermione asked, pointing to the austere black coach. Tom suppressed a smirk; _it is now_.

"Yes," Tom replied, pulling a black cloak from the wall and tossing it to Hermione, who put it on reluctantly. His own cloak rested snugly against his shoulders as he approached the horse that had previously belonged to Rabastan, swinging himself onto the brown horse with little difficulty. Hermione, meanwhile, stared at the horse with a kind of unaware disbelief. _Does he expect me to ride with him?_

By now Tom had extended his hand to her, and said impatiently, "Come on, we haven't got all day! We don't have that much of a head start on the other Lords." He had to smirk inwardly at the double meaning in all of his words.

_Guess that's a yes_, Hermione thought as she grabbed his hand, using his arm and the open stirrup of the saddle to slide in place behind him. She rested her hands lightly on his waist, as if unsure where to put them.

"Where are we going?" Hermione asked, her hands tightening around him as Tom led the horse out of the opening in the opposite end of the stable they had entered, where Hermione could see the clearly marked dirt road that led out of Hogsmeade. He pulled the horse into a smooth canter, Hermione giving one last lingering glance toward the cheery buildings of Hogsmeade before they were lost to the rolling hills and trees of the woods surrounding the city.

"Hmm, where _should_ we go?" Tom mused, slowing the horse down as the path in front of them began to split, the wheel marks of the dirt path continuing north through the grassy field before them as the other barely perceptible trail cut left sharply, leading through two tall trees that seemed to lend a lonesome, almost haunted air to the woods beyond by the rough wilderness that so suddenly sprang up.

Tom had already ruled out returning to Slytherin before the other Lords were dead or otherwise incapacitated; even the general citizens were so devious that he didn't trust staying anywhere in the mountainous kingdom rather than the King's castle and his own manor.

_Left or straight…Hufflepuff or Gryffindor? _Tom thought. _Either way, the other Lords would still come after us. It makes no difference_.

"How about the road less traveled?" Tom asked sarcastically, gesturing to the remote isolation of the path to the left.

Hermione snorted. "Maybe it's less traveled because it doesn't lead anywhere particularly interesting?"

As much as Tom hated to admit it, they would be safer in Gryffindor than in Hufflepuff. They could go to the biggest city in all four Kingdoms, Diagon Alley, for additional supplies or to learn where the other three Lords were. At the moment, he knew Rodolphus was the one to look out for. He had just killed his brother, and Rodolphus would want revenge.

Tom spurred the horse on, heading northwards into Gryffindor. Unbeknownst to them, three different pairs of eyes were watching their every move, laughing evilly as the two kept to the northward path.

At this point, they wouldn't even have to go far to get the amulet. It would come to them.

* * *

A/N: dundundun….and now there are even more people after the amulet! I hope this was not too long a wait for you all, with the end of the semester comes papers, projects, and exams, so it's been hard to pull together enough time to write and edit this.

Do you all think the pacing is too slow/fast? I'm worried I'm rushing the action, but I don't want it to drag either. So hopefully it's just the right mix

Again, if you liked it please support with a review! I'll get the next chapter up in a week or so!

--Kako


	3. Chapter 3

Excelsior

A/N: A huge apology for the long delay in posting the next chapter, but that annoying thing called 'real life' kind of got in the way for a bit. I think I've taken care of it for awhile though, so another chapter of this story is up for you all!

Thank you to: xXTwilight PrincessXx, Anna, mylove24, 00Jade, LestatsLittleGirl, xGabriellaxBoltonx, Blue-Starlight92, AnimeGirlBunnyB, Sakura Takanouchi, SlytherinPrincess7, priscalthum, and Happy Chocolate. Thanks so much for reviewing on Chapter Two!

This chapter is dedicated to xXTwilight PrincessXx for giving me the numerous reminders to keep working on this. Thank you!

* * *

_Recap of Chapter Two:_

_Tom spurred the horse on, heading northwards into Gryffindor. Unbeknownst to them, three different pairs of eyes were watching their every move, laughing evilly as the two kept to the northward path._

_At this point, they wouldn't even have to go far to get the amulet. It would come to them._

Chapter Three

Three witches stood in a circle in a dusty room, all vying for the best position to see into the bowl of water they were scrying in. The smallest one pushed one out of the way, leaning in close to catch a glimpse of the dark-haired rider as they made their way north. She was subsequently elbowed, and unintentionally fell into the tripod, knocking the bowl of water onto the floor, shattering the image the second the first ripple touched its surface.

"Andromeda!" one cried, berating the witch who had fallen. "Now the scrying circle is broken!"

The one called Andromeda huffed, crossing her arms over her chest indignantly. "Bellatrix, you shouldn't have pushed me. Wait your turn."

The third witch, with hair so blond it was almost white, rushed between the two, holding out her arms in a gesture of separation. "Don't fight. We're _sisters_. We are above that."

From the loathing expressions on the other two witches' faces, it was clear that _they_ did not think they were above such a thing.

"Well," the third witch, named Narcissa spoke, "then at least let us use our anger towards a plan to retrieve that medallion."

Neither of the sisters could disagree with that logic. The trio was well-practiced in Ancient magic, and had a talisman of their own.

They also knew that talismans had certain limits on the strains of their magic, and that no talisman was meant to be shared among more than one person.

And theirs was being split among three.

The worn and battered golden cup in the corner of the room was a constant reminder to the sisters of the state of their magic. It was tenuous at best, and absolutely unpredictable and sporadic at worst.

They needed another one, and quickly, and had been on the lookout for any magical item whose protection was thin.

The tremors in the balance of magic had immediately alerted them that the magic of one of the four kingdoms was in dire danger. It did not take them long to realize that the King of Slytherin, Salazar, had finally been torn from his fragile grip on life.

The three sisters had nearly salivated at the thought of owning an entire _kingdom's_ _worth_ of magical powers. Enough for the three of them, and more.

Slytherin obviously didn't need it, if they were tossing it away to some peasant girl. Even if their prince was close, it was not quite in his grasp just yet.

Andromeda bit back a scowl. _This is what the three Black sisters have been reduced to? Squabbling over a bowl of water? _

All three could easily remember their comfortable past—years and years ago, so many that it almost could be termed a _century_, the trio had been members of the court of Slytherin themselves. Then, their magic had grown frail, and the one heirloom talisman left to them was not enough to secure the family's longevity. The sisters had stolen it, running to the near abandoned land of Hufflepuff to hide. After all, the talisman was said to belong to the old queen of that land, and it worked strongest when inside its borders.

"How much is left?" Narcissa asked Bellatrix, who had walked across the room and retrieved the cup from its shelf. It was a plain looking thing in truth, golden and with only a raised badger on the front, with two thin handles spiraling out on both sides. By now the once-bright sheen had diminished considerably, but they still held a great appreciation for the item.

"Not much," Bellatrix responded, her fingers caressing the worn sides.

"I don't want to get old again!" Narcissa whined, running a hand anxiously through her white-blond tresses.

"Cissy, dear, you _are_ old," Andromeda replied, who had grey hairs running through her own mane of brown.

"Be quiet!" Bellatrix commanded, her fingers rubbing the handles of the cup as it began to glow faintly.

"We have enough to restore our appearances and aid in our transport to Diagon Alley. Other than that, we'll be able to use a few simple spells, nothing too fancy or intricate," Andromeda told her youngest sister.

"…It would be more if only one of us went," Bellatrix suggested casually, but was immediately met with a roar of opposition.

"If you go, we all go, Bella," both sisters reminded her.

The eldest sister sighed in annoyance, but reluctantly agreed. If anything, the three sisters knew each other, and they all wanted the power of their talisman for themselves. In this world, power was everything, and the available power was becoming smaller and smaller, even across the entire kingdom.

Yes, the three of them would have to go together.

"Right, then," Andromeda said quickly, flashing both sisters a quick smile. "Let's grab hands then, we've done this enough to know…"

They each grabbed a handle of the cup and a hand of a sister, delighting in the feel of the raw magic flowing through each of them in turn. As they chanted, the expressions on each of their faces changed to sheer elation as they saw the years being removed instantly on their sisters faces, and knowing that the magic was doing the same to their own.

Within a minute the ritual was over, and they let go, Bellatrix holding on to the cup. It was almost completely dim, and had just enough magic left to maintain their stronghold. The castle they lived in was in a secluded spot, tucked away in a cliff and hidden to those who didn't have the magic to see it.

Narcissa squealed, running to the large mirror on one wall of the main room of their castle, frowning when the darkness of the room and the mustiness of the glass made it near impossible to see her reflection. With a snap of her fingers, the room was lit by dozens of candles, and the mirror was cleaned and polished, her own shining reflection beautifully displayed.

"Don't waste your magic, Cissy," Bellatrix warned, setting the cup back down on its shelf. "Now, who wants to transport us to Diagon Alley?"

"Apparating uses too much energy. Where's our carriage?" Narcissa asked, still admiring her grey-free hair in the mirror.

Andromeda had a smirking grin. "Why don't we use the Slytherin prince's? He left it in Hogsmeade, it's ours for the taking."

"I like the way you think, Andromeda," Bellatrix cackled, snapping her fingers as the '_thud_' of a carriage being dropped out of the sky sounded from outside. "Come, its ready."

They made their way outside, admiring the plain yet impressive styling of the black carriage. Surprisingly, the horses did not seem spooked by their change of location, and stood proudly at attention. Opening the door manually with a flicker of distaste, Bellatrix entered the carriage first, followed by her two sisters.

Once inside, Bellatrix couldn't help her last little bit of casual magic, snapping the fingers on her right hand as the horses all took off at once, the carriage racing down the road out of Hufflepuff and towards Diagon Alley.

* * *

"Hey, you!"

Hermione figured the awkwardness of her words was nothing compared to the stagnant silence she had endured in the hours the two of them had been riding north.

"Tom Riddle!"

She really couldn't make up her mind about what to call him, either. She considered it rude just calling him '_Riddle_,' and she didn't know him quite well enough for '_Tom_.' So, cringing slightly, she had settled with the inelegance of referring to him by both his first and his last name.

She could feel him tense slightly, but he didn't respond. Maybe she hadn't been loud enough?

Hermione was sure she had never been on a horse so long in her life, and she was _tired_. She wanted a rest. She'd even fake falling off just to get him to stop, no matter the potential injuries.

The horse jumped over a fallen branch, and Hermione groaned at the pain in her legs and lower back. This was torture. Was the amulet even worth this kind of pain?

"Stop. Now," she coughed out, one hand tugging at Tom's shoulder to force him to register her words. "Please, I can't _take_ this. We need to rest."

Tom seemed reluctant to stop, and Hermione used what little energy she had left to roll her eyes. "If you won't stop for _me_, then give the horse a rest."

He brought the horse to a stop with a gentle tug on the reins, and Hermione fought hard not to slide right off the saddle to the ground. As it was, she didn't think she'd be able to walk for a very, very long time.

Tom glided down smoothly, his hands neatly tucking the reins to one side of the horse so they wouldn't be in Hermione's way. She tried to ignore Tom's unconcealed smirk, so _what_ if her legs were shaking!

She slid down as gracefully as she could manage, staggering to the side and grabbing on to the closest tree to her for support. This time, Tom laughed openly.

"Lived in big cities all your life, have you? I bet you've never even been on a horse before." His words were slightly mocking, and Hermione momentarily forgot her pain.

She spun around, her legs still wobbling slightly. "You don't even _know_ me, so don't presume to judge me like that. I don't even…" she trailed off, looking down. She kept the facts about her early life secret for a reason, as it was the cause for the bullying and scorn she had received while in school.

"I grew up on the other side of the Wall," Hermione said, trying to shrug off the words even as they bit to the core. She raised her head, trying to gauge Tom's reaction.

Tom's eyes widened slightly, the only sign of his comprehension. He calculatedly appraised her.

"That's incredibly rare. I've never met anyone from the other side who can do magic."

The words were accusing, and Hermione accepted that. She'd probably just lost what tenuous thread bound the two of them together, as what few 'Muggleborns,' as they were called, that lived on the magical side of the Wall were often charged with stealing the magic of people who claimed to be 'naturally magical.' Hermione herself ignored their charges; _she_ believed that is was possible for _anyone _to learn magic. Another popular rumor was that the majority of the Britain-raised magically adept were bastard children of high-class magical families, delivered over the Wall to disregard their new responsibilities. It wasn't unheard of, and it would make sense for those very same families to want to cover up the physical remnants of their _mistakes_.

Tom's eyes narrowed. _From across the Wall? Salazar, what _were_ you thinking?_

"Look, that doesn't even matter." _Lie_."I just want to get this _thing_ away from those greedy, callous Slytherins who'd try to _kill_ me instead of just _proving_ that they deserve the crown," Hermione ranted, staggering to the side and dropping as gracefully as she could manage on another fallen tree, using the log as a bench.

Tom chuckled again. "You obviously don't know Slytherin very well then. Their way of _proving_ that, to use your words, _would_ be to kill you."

Hermione folded her arms across her chest, trying to quash her growing feelings of animosity and hunger.

"Well, Mr. _Page for the King_," Hermione said snidely, repeating his earlier words. "Are you saying you agree with all this?"

Tom shrugged it off. He was treading on thin ice, for she had practically just told him that her _trust_ would be enough to merit the kingdom. How hard would that be to earn?

"Well, let's just say that it would've been easier for the both of us _had_ the King given his amulet to anyone but you."

There was a pause; Hermione was too tired to hide the confused look on her face.

Another, longer pause.

"Do you _practice_ at being this unhelpful?" She asked.

Tom smirked, grabbing a cloth-wrapped package of dried meats. He tossed it to Hermione, who feebly caught it, unwrapped it and began to eat.

"We're far enough off the main road that we should be fine setting up camp here for the night," Tom continued in a very business-like manner.

Some of the food caught in her throat, and Hermione began to cough. _Merlin, was there a chance he was going to make us travel MORE tonight?_

Hermione began to grow curious; Tom had moved the horse away from the middle of the small clearing, tying the reins to a tree branch.

"_What_ are you _doing_?" She asked as he grabbed a few fallen branches from the ground, tossing them to the one grassless patch of ground near Hermione's feet.

"Making a fire," was his curt reply. "Unless you'd like to freeze."

"_Magically?_" She asked.

"Do you know any other way?"

Hermione huffed, popping another piece of the dried meat into her mouth. It tasted like beef, but could just as easily been venison.

Suddenly, she brightened. "Could I try?"

Tom had dropped another armload of sticks on the pile, nodding in satisfaction at its size. He glanced almost patronizingly at Hermione, settling himself on a log opposite hers, frowning at the moss that was growing on one corner.

"Do you honestly think you can _control_ the magic of Slytherin?" Tom asked incredulously, not sure whether it was _possible_ the girl could have been serious. _With something that unstable, she could burn down the entire forest, kill herself, _me_, and then where would I be? Certainly she was joking._

Tom didn't even notice that Hermione had pulled the amulet out from underneath her cloak, her fingers rubbing over the emerald in the center. Her hand felt warm, and she absentmindedly glanced down, squeaking in surprise that her hand was _on fire_.

She dropped the amulet, and it thudded back against her cloak. The small ball of blue fire danced at her fingertips, and all she had to do was tilt her hand outwards, the fire rolling off her palm and on to the mass of sticks and twigs, instantly covering them in the blue-yellow flicker of the flames that seemed to produce heat without burning.

Tom looked up abruptly at the sudden increase in heat, his eyes widening slightly at the sudden appearance of the blue-tinged flames. Hermione, he noted, looked extremely pleased with herself, happily eating more food. Tom frowned, he was pretty sure that was the only edible thing in the saddlebags, and she was eating it all.

He had been impressed, and it irked him to admit it. The realization was dawning fast that the amulet would be even harder to get from her if she knew how to control and utilize its magic. He would just have to work harder, then.

"Get some sleep while you can," he told her, moving back to the horse to grab the few thin blankets from the saddlebags. "I'll wake you up at dawn."

Hermione accepted a blanket, moving a bit closer to the fire as she stretched out. She supposed she could trust him enough not to _leave_ her there. Salazar had told her that, while under her possession, the amulet would be safe, so there was no way he could steal it.

She frowned, her back to the fire so Tom couldn't see her face. It seemed odd that a Slytherin would appear out of nowhere to try and help her seemingly unselfishly, and his evasion of her questions was also not lost on her.

Tomorrow, she would try to get some answers.

* * *

"'Dromeda, Cissy, wake up. We're here."

Bellatrix's words were slightly harsher than she'd thought they'd be, but sleep had been hard to come by with the thought that they could soon be in possession of all the magic they'd _dreamed_ of. This would probably be their last chance at magic like this; it was not everyday that crowns came up for grabs. With the magic of Slytherin, they could finally re-establish their family as the top of the social and power elite once again.

"Diagon Alley?" Muttered Narcissa sleepily.

"Scry?" She mumbled again, her eyes still closed.

"My magic isn't sensing them," Bellatrix replied, pushing her sister's shoulders to wake her up. "They must not be here yet."

Andromeda was now fully awake. "Oh, Bella, we haven't been to Diagon Alley in _ages_. Let's explore then!"

Bella rolled her eyes at the childish behavior of her sister. "Remember, we're not the only ones looking for the amulet. I'll look around the city. You both take the carriage to the inn." She opened the door manually, not wanting to waste any excess magic on paltry actions.

"Alright, Bella." Andromeda's eyes were serious now. "We know what's at stake. Do you sense any of the other Lords in the area?"

Bellatrix's smirking grin widened further. "Yes, I do. I think I'll go pay him a visit, hmm?" Her fingers wrapped around the knife she had strapped to her side that morning before their restorative ritual.

"Be careful, and call us if you need anything," Narcissa too was fully awake, a concerned expression across her now-youthful features.

Bellatrix did not respond, shutting the carriage door tightly behind her with a flick of her wrist as she stepped onto the main street. She could sense the presence of a Slytherin Lord, but where?

She focused on the interconnecting streams of magic around her, searching for the one thread that led to whichever Slytherin Lord thought they could outwit _her_ and obtain the amulet. He eyes snapped open, and an intensely pleased smile crossed her face as she walked across the street, heading through the crowd to the front doors of the aptly-named pub _The Slaughtered Prince_.

She didn't know what the Slytherin Lords looked like, so she moved to a corner of the crowded pub and cast one of her favorite spells.

'_Legilimency_.'

Quickly slipping in and out of the minds of each patron of the pub, Bellatrix was searching for the Slytherin Lord that had dared to intrude on _their_ amulet.

A smile crossed her face as she read the mind of a man just now heading for a small corridor presumably leading to the washrooms. This was it; she saw that this man was the fifth Lord of Slytherin.

She inconspicuously followed him, slipping through the crowds and into the dim hallway. She could see him; he too was unaware of her presence. Time to change that.

With a whirl she grabbed his shoulder, turning the man back against the wall and whipping out her obsidian-bladed knife, holding it turned against his throat.

"Well, Slytherin Lord, how ready are you to die?" Bellatrix asked, meeting his cold, calm eyes with her own.

"I know what you seek, and you cannot have it!" She continued.

Instead of intimidating the Lord, his amused chuckle threw her off guard. "Witch, you should have looked deeper into my mind. I no longer desire the amulet or the crown."

Bellatrix's eyes narrowed as she turned the knife, letting the sharpened side drag over his skin. "What is it you want, then?"

"My name is Rodolphus Lestrange, and I want revenge against the one who killed my brother. The amulet is no longer my concern."

Bellatrix smirked, letting her mouth widen in a sickening smile as she remembered the dark-haired prince who was so adamantly protecting the amulet. "Then, how do you feel about a partnership? I get my amulet, and you get your kill."

Rodolphus' eyes glittered with the promise.

"Agreed."

* * *

A/N: HUGE, HUGE apology for taking so long to post this chapter. I will never go that long between updates again, I promise. I hope you all haven't forgotten this story!

'The Slaughtered Prince' is yet another reference to Stardust, but it really has no significance in the plot.

Kudos to everyone who guessed the correct identity of the witches! And I couldn't resist throwing a little bit of Bellatrix/Rodolphus action in.

As always, reviews are appreciated!

--Kako


	4. Chapter 4

Excelsior

Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed on Chapter Three: Ankoku Dezaia, se0127, xXTwilight PrincessXx, 0Rosina0, Sakura Takanouchi, emmarick, Blue-Starlight92, Coco96, 3rdplanet, Iceon, Random.Gal930, Niclaire, and arrowgirl23.

Plenty of Rodolphus action in this chapter, which means it will get sort-of dark. Just a little warning. All those wanting the HG/TR fluff, I'm getting there!! xD

Enjoy.

* * *

_Recap of Chapter Three:_

"_Then, how do you feel about a partnership?" Bellatrix asked. "I get my amulet, and you get your kill."_

_Rodolphus' eyes glittered with the promise._

"_Agreed."_

_Chapter Four_

Hermione woke up to the noise of someone moving around the campsite. She cracked open her eyes, noting in surprise that Tom had actually let her sleep past daybreak. She had assumed that he'd want to be on the run as fast as they could go, replenishing their supplies at Diagon Alley and hiding out there until they could form a plan of locating the Slytherin Lords and protecting the amulet.

She still couldn't guess his angle to all of this. He said his true loyalties were to the dead King, but that hardly corresponded with what she'd been told about the nature of Slytherins. They were capitalists at heart, selling their loyalties to the highest bidder if they weren't in a position to buy _others_ loyalties or lead a region themselves.

Maybe he didn't think the seven Lords were capable at all of governing Slytherin—_six, now_, she reminded herself, remembering the one Lord that Tom had killed in cold blood.

She shivered; the footsteps stopped moving amongst the cover of the fallen leaves.

"I know you're awake." His voice was soft, yet strong. _He_ knew the dangers out there possibly facing them, and he wouldn't even tell her anything! Didn't he trust her at all? She had already proven her _own_ trust, coming along with him on this crazed journey to protect a kingdom that _she_ had no allegiance to.

Hermione sat up slowly, noticing that the remains of their campfire had been scattered behind the fallen logs, and the saddlebags were packed with everything but the blanket Hermione clutched around her shoulders. Even with her own cloak _and_ the blanket, nights were still cold in Gryffindor.

"Come on, it's a several hours' journey to Diagon Alley," Tom said, untying the horse's reins from the tree branch to keep him from wandering off.

Hermione was fully aware of how hungry she was. "No breakfast?" She asked weakly.

Tom shook his head. "We'd better move fast. A large magical presence entered this Kingdom early this morning, I could sense it."

Hermione frowned. _And there he goes again. I have to wonder how his magic is so in tune with subtle changes like that. If his magic was so powerful, just _what_ was he doing as a page for the court of Slytherin? Something just doesn't add up._

She grudgingly climbed back onto the horse behind Tom, who immediately pulled the horse into a trot, and then a gallop through the woods. Hermione settled for staring at the changing landscape around them, feeling the weight of the amulet thud against her chest.

She _knew_ she could control more of the magic if she tried. The amulet was reluctant to release the magic for the spell when she had cast it, but she knew that was only the tip of the spells it was capable of. It was amazing, she felt, that something so small could hold so much magical potential.

_An entire kingdom…_

The weight of an entire kingdom rested on her mind as the two of them continued north towards Diagon Alley. She was strong enough to carry the amulet, sure, but was she strong enough to bear the weight of its magic?

She didn't know the answer to that one. And until the amulet judged her worthy enough to control more of its power, she didn't think she'd find out.

* * *

"Dear, stop pacing," Bellatrix's resonant voice filled the empty expanse around them; the two were standing on the flat rooftop of the Magical Menagerie, overlooking the busy streets of Diagon Alley.

"He is not here yet." Rodolphus confirmed harshly. He did not feel the need to add, '_and stop calling me dear_,' for it had done no good the last time he had demanded it. She was intriguing, irritating, and darkly beautiful, a combination Rodolphus had always found to be the most dangerous in a woman.

They were very much alike, he reasoned. Once or twice he had entertained the thought of double-crossing her, killing her after his revenge was enacted to take the amulet for himself. He was sure she had similar thoughts, and so Rodolphus kept on guard for any sign of the witch's eminent betrayal. It was one of the things he liked about her, he supposed. At least she was honest about her capitalistic style of loyalty.

"Where are your—" Rodolphus' words were interrupted; the witch even seemed to be able to predict his very thoughts.

"My sisters?" Bellatrix's laugh was nearly cackling in nature. "Why, am I not enough for you, dear? Why concern yourself with _them_?"

Rodolphus shifted his stance, darkly eyeing the woman before him, who seemed even more amused by his behavior. He had seen the two other Black siblings only for an instant after Bellatrix had introduced their slight change in plans, and the two had been keeping a watch on the rooftop ever since.

The plan was simple: divide and conquer.

"Do not worry, they will do their part," Bellatrix waved away his unvoiced concerns. "They know what is at stake."

Rodolphus's eyebrows rose slightly, but he did not show his confusion in any other way. He knew that the sisters weren't interested in the parliamentary procedures corresponding to _ruling_ a kingdom, so he had assumed that they wanted the amulet only to drain its magic. He did not know the situation behind their own recent loss of talisman, and he did not presume to ask for the information. It was their business, after all.

He at least hoped that his new 'acquaintance' would be relocating to Slytherin after her acquisition of the amulet. He hadn't had a woman in his life in ages.

He shot her a covert glance out of the corner of one eye. If he played his cards right, he could even use her support to rid the kingdom of the rest of Slytherin's still-living lords. Even without the amulet, he could still make a case for taking over the rule if the other contenders were dead. He had already made plans to take care of the eldest lord, sending the Malfoy patriarch on a wild-goose chase through the eastern part of Slytherin. He so far had been unable to put a spy inside Yaxley's service, but Rodolphus didn't consider the second lord to be much of a threat anyway.

He turned back to face the sprawling main street, his trained eyes focusing in on every traveler in turn, searching for the dark-haired seventh lord. Even if he _was_ expecting an ambush like this, his arrogance would be his undoing.

Rodolphus' eyes practically glittered with anticipation when he saw the image of his target, the amulet bearer's back to the two on the roof as she walked away from him and into the pub on the same side of the street.

Bellatrix moved to Rodolphus' side. "The prince is here?"

If Rodolphus knew anything, it was the knowledge behind hunting, the experience in tracking a target and taking them out, be it a human being or one of the trolls or werewolves at the Northern border. This puzzled him; Tom's posture was expectant and wary as he moved away from the pub, striding up the street as his eyes sought out his surroundings much as Rodolphus himself had done in locating the seventh lord.

_Ah, so the young lord is trying to draw us out_, he concluded.

"He is by himself," Rodolphus stated, watching Bellatrix's dark grin with a measure of desire. He would use her to kill Tom, but his revenge would not be denied him. The woman beside him might be striking, but he would kill even her if she got in the way of his vengeance.

"The prince will die," Bellatrix said; Rodolphus glanced at her again. She was obviously not as adept at reading the signs as he was—Tom knew of their presence.

"And the amulet bearer?" Bellatrix asked, her eyes scanning the crowds.

"He sent her to the _Leaky Cauldron_," Rodolphus answered curtly, adjusting the scabbard that bound his knife by his side. He knew his particular talisman was looked upon with distaste by the other lords, but the roughness and duality it provided suited him well. He could even kill with it without using magic, and had indulged in that particular pleasure many times since _acquiring_ it from a family member who _suddenly_ found he had no need for it.

Rodolphus chucked darkly. Tom Riddle would meet the blade soon; the boy had always had a flair for the dramatic, but Rodolphus himself preferred a more _direct_ approach.

"It is practically _ours_," Bellatrix hushed excitedly. Rodolphus grunted in assent, but whether she meant the amulet or Tom's death, or the '_ours_' as her sisters or himself, he honestly didn't care. When he hunted, he had only one goal in mind, and he would stop at nothing until it was complete.

Revenge. Justice.

_Death_.

* * *

Hermione was overwhelmed at the sheer _quantity_ of things clouding her vision as the two of them made their way through Diagon Alley, the exhausted horse stabled at the very outreaches of the city. There were thestrals stabled there as well; she shivered as she could see them now. She had never even been to Gryffindor before, and barely noticed the slight coldness of the climate as her senses were assaulted by the many different things vendors were selling, either from shops lining the busy streets or carts pulled up on the sidewalks.

Tom did not humor her curiosity, instead pulling her away from apothecaries and bookstores, ignoring her unwavering protests to just '_take a look_' at the many wonderful things the commercial city offered.

Hermione was even in awe of the towering magical bank, Gringotts, but having no money of her own to store there paid it less attention, instead glancing wistfully at an ice-cream parlor, thinking that even _that_ would be a welcome addition to her stomach, no matter the fact that ice cream for breakfast could hardly be healthy. She had her most recent paycheck with her, and knew that given the choice between food or books she would have to reluctantly choose the former.

Tom glanced up; Hermione wished she could tell what he was thinking. He'd been on edge ever since entering the city, and she had stopped pestering him about it, although the spite was still there. If he'd only just _trust_ her!

"Go get some breakfast." Tom's soft order was spoken quickly and without warning.

She glanced up at him in concern, fears from his strange behavior throughout the morning coming back at her. "Why? What's wrong?"

He grinned wryly. "We're being followed."

Tom knew exactly who was following them; Rodolphus Lestrange had never been good at hiding his magical signature, and Tom had known the fifth lord well enough to recognize it instantly. It was clouded, but Tom attributed that to the elder Lestrange's undoubted feelings of anger.

He had, of course, just recently taken out his brother in his untenable pursuit of the medallion.

Tom smirked as he sensed Rodolphus' wrath, naturally directed at himself. He would use that anger to his advantage. People were never so easily influenced when they were emotional.

And Tom prided himself on the resolute control of his _own_.

Hermione was still worried. She remembered what he'd done to the one Slytherin Lord who had tried to take the amulet from her, and she knew that he was about to repeat the same process. It wasn't that she wanted to _watch_ the repetition, but she also wanted to make sure that Tom was safe.

_That's silly_, she reprimanded herself. _Tom can take care of himself_.

"Alright," she told him reluctantly, turning to head towards the pub. He grabbed her arm before she was lost in the crowd, and she turned back to him, surprised.

"I'll find you once I've taken care of the _problem_." Tom's words were falsely cheerful, and Hermione shivered at the intent. She nodded, and he released her.

She broke the eye contact first, heading into the _Leaky Cauldron_ with apprehension. Once inside, though, she found that the interior of the pub was in no way indicative of its name. It was crowded, yes, but cozy in a way that only years of establishment can provide.

She found a table quickly even amongst the bustle, and ordered a butterbeer and a sandwich before she could even think of doing anything else. They arrived quickly, and she was too engrossed in filling her stomach to concentrate on her surroundings.

She closed her eyes as she took a sip of the warming beverage, and did not notice the two women at the bar moving closer to her table, the brown-haired one taking the lead.

They exchanged a smile; their plan was working. The amulet would soon be theirs.

* * *

Tom watched her go, still uneasy about leaving her behind while he confronted the fifth lord of Slytherin himself. He knew that she would not be good help in any kind of fight, and that he might even lose her trust by _protecting_ her if it led to Lestrange's death.

He frowned. He would have killed both Lestrange's eventually, but protecting that girl and the amulet was starting to become a genuine pain in the ass.

Seriously, he didn't think women had ever seemed this difficult before. He scratched his head with one hand, the heavy ring on his third finger brushing against his dark hair. He would have to keep the distance between them, he resolved. In a close fight, Rodolphus might have the advantage with his own particular brand of magic.

It's a good thing Tom Riddle never fought fair.

He hardly knew where the elder Lestrange was now; would he _really_ be that stupid to instigate a fight in the middle of the street like a common thug?

Tom chuckled. The elder Lestrange never seemed to be as quick as the younger. Rabastan had recognized immediately that Tom himself would be the first to get to the amulet.

He smirked; if the lords kept coming at him one at a time, then this would be easy.

He kept walking, putting a couple blocks' distance between himself and the pub Hermione was in. One eyebrow rose; he could see Rodolphus leaning against the brick wall of one side of the Magical Menagerie, a smug look on his face.

That wasn't what puzzled Tom the most; on the contrary he had become used to the unbelievable overconfidence both Lestrange brothers possessed. Instead, his _own_ poise was shaken slightly at seeing the woman practically on his arm.

Hmm. Maybe he should have brought Hermione after all.

He cursed inwardly; by the woman's stance, it was clear she not only had magical potential at her disposal, but she would have no problem using it against him. _So_, he thought, _Rodolphus has found himself an ally. Maybe I _don't_ give the oaf enough credit_.

The woman was dressed all in dark colors, her hair a black mass of curls across her face. Even her eyes were mapped in the same color. She looked depressing, and slightly mad.

_I suppose they are perfect together_, he smirked.

"Lestrange." Tom was the first to speak, his voice cordial as always, only his eyes betraying the malice behind the name.

Rodolphus responded with a growl that Tom supposed had been his name, he really wasn't paying attention.

Rodolphus was drowning in fury. Moments before Tom had approached him, making sure to still have the busy street to his back, Bellatrix had leaned over, whispering in his ear, '_So _that _is the boy you have been so afraid of?_' Rodolphus Lestrange was not afraid of anything, or any_one_.

Within seconds his knife was in his hand, blade sharpened only that morning.

"My brother is dead by your hand. How would you like to _die_, Riddle?" Rodolphus' words were as menacing as he could make them, but Tom's unconcerned chuckle only made him angrier.

"What?" His laugh was darkly amused. "Am I supposed to be _impressed_ by that? I suppose you also share your brother's death wish?" Tom delighted in the incensed expression on Rodolphus' face. He was so easy to manipulate.

The woman next to Rodolphus' eye's narrowed then snapped open widely as Rodolphus charged, swiping the long knife in an arc downward, an angle easily dodged by Tom as he twisted to his left, a slicing hex swiftly cutting through the air and piercing Rodolphus' unprotected left side. He was unable to deflect it, but it hit more of his cloak than his skin, a thin ribbon of red so dark it was almost black dotting in a sweep across the green material.

Rodolphus charged again, trying to use his slight height advantage as he tried to push his opponent closer to the alley behind him. Tom's banishing spell prevented the knife from reaching its intended target, although the magic of the talisman kept it from soaring out of Rodolphus' grasp like he'd hoped.

"_Expulso!"_

Tom instantly brought up a shield as the dark-haired witch joined the fight, surprised by the intensity of her spell. He grinned; _things were finally getting interesting_. Instead, the curse was deflected to the wall on his right, causing several of the old bricks to explode in a cloud of dust and debris.

"Bellatrix!" Rodolphus hissed, presumably angry that the woman had helped him.

_Ah, she has a name_, Tom thought idly. "I wonder what lies he's told you to get you to deplete your own magic against an opponent you do not know." He addressed his words to Bellatrix, whose eyes glinted in an almost protective manner as her stance changed to one of offense, not even registering any assent at Tom's correct assumption. By joining with Rodolphus, she was literally draining her magic reserves by using them here. Talismans were able to recharge themselves naturally by absorbing the slight magic in the air around them, but they could run dry if the strain on them was great enough.

"_Lies_, Riddle?" Rodolphus' booming laugh surprised Tom. _What is he playing at?_

"We know that the girl with the amulet is in league with you. But, I know you." Rodolphus' grin was starting to unnerve Tom.

"I don't think she knows just _who_ you are, am I correct?"

_Damn_. He'd hit the nail on the head.

And Rodolphus knew it.

"You'd never stand a chance at the crown if she knew it." Rodolphus' satisfaction was glaringly evident.

Tom knew a threat when he heard one, despite how it was veiled or packaged.

Tom matched his cool grin with one of his own. "That hardly matters, as I have no intention of telling her."

Rodolphus changed his stance again, and Tom watched them both suspiciously. Two against one really was unequitable, especially if Rodolphus knew where Hermione was. Tom wouldn't take the chance that he wouldn't be able to slay the fifth lord down before his secret was released if Rodolphus decided to have the witch Bellatrix fight him while he went after Hermione and the amulet.

"You have no need to go after it, dear," Bellatrix told Rodolphus. "I told you, my sisters are taking care of it."

Tom felt the sweat break out on the back of his neck. _Sisters?_

He knew Hermione would never stand a chance.

He gritted his teeth, doing his best not to show how furious he was at Rodolphus. He had kept the minor exchange of spells out in the open so that Rodolphus couldn't pull a stunt like this, but the openness also prevented him from just up and killing the man. Diagon Alley wasn't a lawless town; Gryffindor Aurors would likely be on him within minutes depending on how many townspeople saw the telltale green light of the curse.

And suddenly, a very loud feminine scream jolted them all out their concentration. The milling townspeople swiftly began moving towards the sound, which Tom noted with mounting trepidation was in the general direction of the Leaky Cauldron pub.

Several other screams joined the first.

"Lestrange," Tom glowered. "We'll have to finish this later." Tom hated abandoning a battle, but he considered this as more of a _postponement_.

He had to check up on _his_ amulet.

And caution to the others who thought they could take what was his.

* * *

Hermione savored the sensation of her drink, nearly choking on it to open her eyes and find the two strangely-dressed women in front of her.

"Hello," the brown-haired one said cheerfully. "Mind if we join you?"

Hermione was confused by their offer, but felt it rude to deny anyone the right to simply sit down and eat with her. She was further puzzled when she saw that they did not even have anything from the pub with them.

_What's going on?_

Hermione nodded her assent, and the two sat down.

"Are…you traveling as well?" Hermione found making conversation awkward; she was normally by herself for her meals, but felt the need to keep up her politeness.

The blonde nodded. "Oh, _yes_. Where do you come from?"

"Hogsmeade," Hermione responded shortly, growing slightly suspicious as the two exchanged a look. They seemed awfully pleased about something, and Hermione couldn't help the growing sense of apprehension in her stomach, and the fleeting thoughts that she wished Tom was there with her. She was in a foreign kingdom, in an unknown place, and she had no idea what to do.

"Oh, that's nice," the brown-haired one continued. "We're from Huffle—"

The blonde cut her off, snarling, "'Dromeda, I've had enough of this!" With a lunge, she grabbed Hermione by the collar of her cloak, pulling the girl up from her seated position at the table. Hermione screamed at the blonde's action, the other patrons in the pub quickly growing quiet as they watched the three.

Hermione's eyes widened as she quickly brought her arms up to try to get out of the woman's grip, knocking the bottle of butterbeer off of the table in the process.

The one the blonde called 'Dromeda' huffed. "Get on with it, Cissy."

Cissy's eyes glowed with anticipation as she pulled the neck of the cloak away from Hermione, her grin widening as she glimpsed the edge of the chain holding the amulet.

Hermione's legs and arms were shaking. _Tom, where are you?_

_The amulet…the amulet…_she gulped, hoping Salazar's information would save her. They could not take it from her.

The amulet came into view, dangling on the outside of her cloak against her throat. Cissy's hands closed around it, and Hermione held her breath.

Her earth-shattering scream ripped through the air, and Hermione found herself dropped to the floor, her leg catching under her painfully as she bumped into several wooden tables in an effort to get away quickly.

"Cissy!" her companion watched as the blonde's hands began to smoke, the flesh literally melting as boils appeared on the once-smooth surface, the skin tightening against the framework of her bones where she had grasped the medallion.

Hermione drew herself to her feet, and ignoring the pain in her leg, ran for the entrance of the pub. The blonde continued to shriek, and Hermione momentarily pitied her for the pain before remembering that they were also after the amulet, and if anything like the lords of Slytherin, would kill for it.

A thick crowd had assembled outside the pub, drawn by the noise, and Hermione pushed through it, wanting to get as far away as possible and wanting to stay close so Tom could find her.

Her plight evaporated, however, as she saw incredibly relieved face of Tom Riddle as he approached her from across the cobblestone street, not even registering that his eyes seemed to be fixed on the amulet freely dangling around her neck than on her own eyes.

He reached her quickly, eyes darting around the crowded square for any sign of his pursuers or hers. "We have to get off the street," he told her hurriedly.

Hermione understood. Being out in the open could be potentially dangerous for them both; they needed to regroup somewhere and let the situation from the Leaky Cauldron wind down.

Hermione's eyes lighted on the large sign of the store behind Tom. "I've got it," she reassured him, leading him through the crowd and to the front door of the suggested shop.

"A _bookstore_?" Tom asked, dubiously.

Hermione nodded, opening the door for them both. "I worked in the Hogsmeade location. I've met the other owner before."

Tom considered her quick thinking with grudging respect. This would be safe enough, for now.

Hermione went up to the counter, a huge smile plastered on her face, and after a small reintroduction to the owner, William Blotts, was chatting away about different books and other things; Tom really didn't care.

After a few minutes, Hermione returned. "We're welcome to use the staffroom in the back," she told him.

"Good," Tom nodded. "Now, tell me exactly what happened."

* * *

Lucius Malfoy, eldest lord of Slytherin, dismounted from his horse, scanning the horizon with a discontented grimace.

_How could the runes possibly be right?_

He had kept careful track of the progress of his competition; Dolohov and Rosier were dead before the very night was over, and the Lestrange brothers were very soon to follow, if they were not dead already. He had been unable to locate the youngest lord, but had simply been following the rash of murders left behind in his wake. The second lord, Yaxley, was still in Slytherin as far as he knew.

Lucius frowned. "Selwyn!" He barked, grimacing further as he approached the edge of the cliff, his talisman cane in his right hand. The runemaster had led him to the extreme Northeastern border of the kingdom, where the tall craggy mountains behind them made a sharply contrasting backdrop to the immense ocean before them, tall glaciers bobbing on the surface in the distance.

"My lord, the runes never lie," Selwyn said hastily, withdrawing the pouch from his pocket and pouring the bones into his palm, both hands shaking either from cold or nerves.

"But men do," Lucius rejoined shortly.

He had thought he was so _clever_, seeking out a Slytherin nobleman he knew to possess an extremely _unique_ talisman. Selwyn possessed the runes: a collection of magically enchanted bones that when thrown could predict the answer to any yes or no question.

Selwyn had grown pale, clutching the bones in one hand.

"You said we should go east, and east we have traveled. Do you propose we start _swimming_ to reach the medallion?" Lucius' words were mocking as the soothsayer trembled.

"I will…consult them again for you," Selwyn said carefully, about to toss the runes again.

"Wait," Lucius halted him. "Let _me_ ask it the questions. Am I the first lord of Slytherin?"

Selwyn threw the runes and they fell back in his outstretched palms, all turned on the bone-white, undecorated side.

"And what does that mean?" Lucius drawled.

"It means 'yes,'" Selwyn said nervously.

"Ah. Good," Lucius continued. "Now, answer me this. Would I spare any mercy towards anyone standing in my way of possessing Slytherin's medallion?"

Again, Selwyn tossed the runes; they landed awkwardly, each turned away from the other, none showing the white of the bone.

"And what does that mean?"

Sweat had broken out on Selwyn's brow as he mumbled, "I-It means n-no."

"I have one more question." Lucius was getting tired of the cold. He hoped the real location of the amulet was somewhere warmer. "Toss them high."

Selwyn gulped, but did as Lucius commanded.

"Are you loyal to me?"

The runes seemed almost to hang in mid-air before plummeting down, Lucius' satisfied smirk growing deeper as he noticed the skewed positions of the runes; all turned to the darker side.

"Such a pity," Lucius said, the emeralds in the snake's eyes on the top of his cane glowing the same green as the spell he cast.

He realized he probably should've asked _which_ of the other lords the traitorous soothsayer was working for, but Lucius hardly needed to. It was more Rodolphus' style to enlist the help of others; Tom would never trust anyone to do the work that he felt he could do better himself, and Yaxley would have used his unequalled skill with the Imperius Curse, and Selwyn's attempted duplicity had been his own choosing.

Lucius performed another simple spell, summoning the runes from the ground where they had fallen out of Selwyn's hands. He walked around the body, heading back towards his horse. He really was getting tired of the cold.

The cane was reattached at his side like a sword in its casing; he would need both his hands for this.

The smoothness of the runes felt warm in his hands. Lucius grinned.

"Now, I will know the location of the amulet."

* * *

A/N: So, I hope this extra-long chapter makes up for the past updating delays

This past section was probably the last of the Stardust references xD And the plot thickens! It is going to be getting _much_ more exciting, now that so many villains are in on the chase.

Reviews are much loved. Leave one if you liked it, hated it, whatever!

--Kako


	5. Chapter 5

Excelsior

A/N: A huge thanks to everyone who reviewed on Chapter Four! SilverLugia101, Se0127, Sky-Pirate325, arrowgirl23, RandomGal930, Coco96, chocolaterox92, Ankoku Dezaia, xXTwilight PrincessXx, Jeanne, and Sakura Takanouchi!

To everyone who commented on Hermione's "damsel-in-distress" syndrome, thanks for bringing that to my attention. Because this is AU, I've been trying to paint her character while taking into account that all of her canon adventures over the seven books never took place, but I agree, she still wouldn't be so trusting and blind to Tom's behavior.

One last thing: in this story, I am making Andromeda a Metamorphmagus. It's hereditary, so she must have had some predisposition for it, right?

And now, onward to Chapter Five! Let's see some other HP characters come into play, shall we?

* * *

_Recap of Chapter Four:_

_The smoothness of the runes felt warm in his hands. Lucius grinned._

"_Now, I will know the location of the amulet."_

* * *

Chapter Five

Andromeda Black sat hunched over the counter of the bar in the Leaky Cauldron, each sip of her firewhiskey making her feel all the more lonely.

As soon as her eldest sister had reached them, Narcissa had been under Bellatrix's constant care, and Andromeda had been relegated to lookout duty, and had been pushed to the side while her sisters searched for a cure for the dark curse still affecting Narcissa.

It's not that she begrudged her sister for her condition, Andromeda reflected, but while she was closest to her younger sister, Narcissa herself looked up to Bellatrix above all others, idealizing her magical abilities while Andromeda's own seemed useless, sometimes even to herself.

She had no natural talent for healing spells, so she knew she would be all but useless in helping her sister, and she had yet to use her other hidden talent in their charge to possess the amulet.

For Andromeda Black was a Metamorphmagus, skilled with adapting any or all of her features into whatever shape she wished, such that she could disguise herself and change her appearance at a moment's notice.

Her power had drawbacks, of course, and with their recent rationing of their magic, it would take the bulk of her own allocation to complete even one transformation.

She slammed her glass of firewhiskey back down onto the counter of the bar, fingers clenching around it as she wished she could do more to help. Sure, she wanted the amulet, she wanted its power, but in her mind she had firmly established a price for such strength. She would not take it at the cost of one of her sisters. She wasn't sure if the others felt the same way.

"Ahem…excuse me, but is this seat taken?"

Andromeda looked up, scowling. Couldn't they see she was in the middle of trying to drown herself from the inside with liquor? She glanced over to the empty seat on her left before meeting the stranger's face.

He stood, clutching a brown leather bag in his hands, with such a hopeful look on his face that Andromeda found herself shaking her head swiftly, turning back to her drink while wondering just why someone would single out the one person in the entire pub who did not want to be bothered the most.

There were a few seconds of blessed silence between the two, while Andromeda concentrated on drowning out the buzz of the drifting conversations and noise from other patrons, when again the same man burst her reflection with a tentative "…I'm Ted, by the way. Ted Tonks."

Andromeda really didn't care what his name was, and simply '_hmphed_' in response. That seemed to be enough for Ted, who continued happily.

"Have you ever been to Diagon Alley before? I haven't. I like it." He tried unsuccessfully to get the attention of the bartender, who, like Andromeda herself, ignored his waving arms and hesitant calls as best as she could.

Ted seemed to be waiting for an answer, so Andromeda turned back heavily. "Yes," she answered curtly. He nodded in anticipation.

She sighed. "It was a long time ago."

That still seemed to not be enough for Ted. "Tell me about it."

Andromeda frowned. _Seriously, what is his problem? Can't he tell I want to be left alone?_

He was still looking at her seriously, and it unnerved her. She couldn't tell if he was interested in a creepy way, or whether he genuinely cared to know more about her. She'd never been in this situation before.

He still stared at her expectantly, waiting for a response.

"I visited with my sisters many years ago. I was little." She firmly closed her mouth. That was _all_ he was getting from her, she would be sure of it.

The smile on Ted's face grew even larger. "Don't be shy! So, where are your sisters?"

Andromeda was growing more and more frustrated. She was many things, least of all _shy_, and just why was he so interested in her family? Was he taking a _census_ or something?

Ted ruffled a hand through his thick, light-colored hair, his demeanor changing instantly as though sensing her discomfort. "If you don't want to talk about it, that's fine." He flashed her a smile. "It just means that it's your turn now to ask _me_ a question."

Andromeda stifled a groan. "That will be unnecessary."

From the slightly hurt look on Ted's face, Andromeda reconsidered her terse remark. She decided to humor him. _After all, what could it hurt?_

"Fine. What are _you_ doing in Diagon Alley?"

_A nice, short, to the point question_. She smiled. Now no one could accuse her of not contributing to the conversation.

"That's, ah, quite a loaded question. For me." Ted's shaky smile made Andromeda start to grow curious about his answer.

_Damn. His prying must be contagious_.

"I'm not from this, ah…well, from _any _of the kingdoms, really. I'm British." From the confused look on Andromeda's face, Ted clarified. "From across the Wall. I climbed over for a carnival on the other side, and couldn't find my way back the next day. I like it here, though, Diagon Alley is the most interesting city I've been to so far. Reminds me of London."

Andromeda had no idea what London was, but she noticed the nostalgia in Ted's voice. "Do you…miss it?"

Ted smiled triumphantly. Andromeda cursed whatever part of her kept answering his questions with more questions of her own.

"Yes, I do, but if it means I meet someone like you, it's worth it."

Andromeda rolled her eyes, yet she couldn't keep the small twitch at the corners of her mouth hidden. _Ted _is _charmingly funny, if a little over-the-top_, she decided.

"Here, let me get you another," Ted offered, noticing her now empty glass. Before Andromeda could answer either way he had marched off to the bar, at last snagging the bartender to place his order.

Less than a minute later, Ted returned with a drink, triumphantly sliding it on the counter in front of her, carrying another mug in his other hand for himself. "After all this time, I don't believe I've gotten your name yet."

Well, she owed him _that_ much at least. "Andromeda." She replied.

"That's a beautiful name," he remarked. Andromeda could help but blush; no one had ever told her that before. "Now, what do I have to do to get your last name?" Ted asked with a smile.

Andromeda had to marvel at his persistence. In maybe an hour, she'd gone from angry apathetic to blushing at his every compliment. And all for a man who was practically a stranger! _Then why does it feel like I've known him for so long?_

With her sisters' possession of their own talisman, they'd abused its magic to extend their own lives and youth, but in all that time she'd never experienced such an instant connection with anyone outside of her immediate family. She'd never _let _herself have such a connection.

"Nothing," she answered. "It's Black. Andromeda Black."

Ted's smile made Andromeda's own lips move upwards. _It really is contagious_, she noted, but this time she wasn't so indignant about it.

"Thank you, you know," Andromeda told him after another thirty minutes of straight conversation. She'd found it was surprisingly _easy_ talking with him, just _being_ in Ted's presence. "I wanted to be left alone, but this was exactly what I needed."

Ted grinned. "I know, 'Dromeda."

_Of course you wanted to be left alone_, he thought. _But that doesn't mean you deserve to be_.

* * *

She had led them both to the back of the bookstore, where she began to pace angrily before the magical cook-book section, each step making her remember each step she'd taken on her journey so far. She hadn't ever stopped to re-evaluate her position, and she found some odd inconsistencies.

Hermione was feeling particularly angry. Tom was asking her what had happened; like _she_ had a clue _why_ the weird events going on around them were happening. _He _was always the one with the answers—_and usually damn convenient ones too_, she realized with a frown.

"When those women touched the amulet, it burned the skin right off their hands," Hermione narrated, her eyes narrowed.

He looked surprised. "They were powerful witches," Tom mused speculatively. "For it to affect them like that…"

"_Powerful?_" Hermione turned on the spot, facing him. "But I assume you won't have any problem if they try to attack us again?"

"Naturally." Hermione figured that Tom's razor-sharp smirk could cut through glass.

"And why is that?" Hermione countered quickly, raising an eyebrow.

_Yes, _why_, Tom?_ The unanswered question hung heavily in the stuffy air of the bookstore. _What is a Slytherin page boy doing with the power to defeat any obstacle that comes in our path? What interest does he really have in this kingdom-spanning battle?_

"What do you mean?" He asked coolly. "Would you rather I was weak, and you were dead?"

"Well, _no_—" she began, but Tom cut her off.

"Oh, so you consider it _wrong_ then for one to have power without a title? Would you rather _I _was one of the Slytherin Lords?" He raised an eyebrow, waiting for Hermione's response.

Hermione's laugh was sudden and erratic. "What? Tom, of course not."

Tom joined her with an amused laugh of his own, but for completely separate reasons. _Hopefully she will never need to know, if I can find a way to get the amulet from her. _

"So, you believe I should not have confidence in my abilities?" Tom took a step closer to echo his point, turning his head to one side.

Hermione was speechless; _what? _She agreed with everything Tom had said—and she really _did_ owe him so much for protecting her and the amulet. And she had no reason _not_ to want him to be powerful, for the first opponent they ran into whose power surpassed Tom's would be their last.

"No?" Tom reaffirmed, moving even closer, waiting for Hermione's response. She numbly shook her head.

The amulet still hung outside of Hermione's robes, and Tom's eyes were drawn to the shining metal and interconnecting snakes. He lifted his eyes back to hers and she kept his gaze, eyes widening slightly as he raised a hand, hesitating mere centimeters before the surface.

Tom smirked, raising his hand further to brush a lock of her hair that had fallen in front of her face behind one ear.

"I'm going to go finish off the one that was trailing us yesterday. The fifth Slytherin Lord," he added idly.

"Let me come with you," Hermione asked. She'd had enough of not knowing _who_ exactly she was fighting, she wanted to put names and faces to the broad titles and vague intimations of the ones pursuing her.

"Absolutely not." Tom's eyes narrowed, and Hermione could have sworn she saw a flash of red behind their dark center. Tom bit back a scowl; he could not let Hermione meet any of the other Lords, for they would not hesitate in giving away his secret, and after that it would be easy to sway her alliance.

"Why not?" She crossed her arms, her elbows lightly brushing the fabric of his cloak in the process. She had the amulet, she could protect herself! Sure, the complete dispassion Tom took in killing the other Lord in the other Flourish and Blotts had unnerved Hermione, and she certainly did not want to _join _in that kind of battle, but she wanted to know the face of her enemy!

_And since when were problems impossible to solve by talking things through?_ She thought with a huff.

"You would get yourself killed," Tom responded through gritted teeth.

"You care?" She asked sarcastically.

"Yes." Tom's response was serious.

Hermione didn't know quite how to respond to that. Sure, most people value the general life of another person because they value their own life, but somehow Hermione figured that for someone like Tom, that acknowledgement meant a little more.

"You will stay here," he insisted, waiting with an amused smirk before Hermione finally relented, nodding her head 'yes.'

He left quickly, returning to the street and using his own talisman to track the magic signature of Rodolphus' own talisman-knife. Rodolphus would no longer interfere with his ambition. He _would_ be King, and the amulet would be his eventually. Tom could be a patient man when he was waiting for the important things.

The most important thing right now besides taking out his competition was keeping Hermione alive. He had meant it; if she died, all of his work would be gone. He had no idea what would happen to the amulet if its bearer were to die, it could either be free for the taking, or—and Tom hated to think about the other less-than-savory possibilities his mind had thought of—the amulet could send itself to another bearer, or its magic could dissipate completely. Without it, the Kingdom of Slytherin would be even more in dire trouble. As long as the people thought their King was still alive, then they would be oblivious to the race against the clock going on right underneath their noses.

Tom planned to win that race. His victory was all but assured as he hunted down the fifth Lord.

Three down. Three to go.

* * *

Bellatrix paced the narrow hallway as she wrung her fingers together in worry. Narcissa was sleeping, and her condition had been stable for the past hour, but Andromeda was nowhere to be seen. There was nothing more that could be done for her sister, but Andromeda's presence _would_ have helped calm some of her nerves.

Rodolphus had been kind enough to purchase the largest suite in the inn of the _Leaky Cauldron_ for their use, but Bellatrix hated to be indebted to someone for long. Rodolphus himself sat across from her on an armchair with extremely faded upholstery, reading that day's copy of _The Daily Prophet_ as Bellatrix continued her pacing.

"Anything _interesting_?" She spat angrily, still incensed at her sister's state and her own inability to obtain the amulet.

"There has yet to be an obituary for Salazar," Rodolphus answered coolly. "And apparently the rising price of Bicorn horn is cause for a national alarm," he continued sarcastically.

Bellatrix cast another worried glance at the door to her sister's room, and Rodolphus caught it, folding the newspaper in half as he stood up, moving to Bellatrix's side.

"Do we really need her?" His voice caressed the air as he raised one hand to lightly brush Bellatrix's arm from shoulder to elbow.

"You want the power of the amulet," he whispered in her ear. "If I am King, I will need a Queen, yes?"

Bellatrix's breath hitched as she thought of what that would mean; _Power…_endless _power, all for me_.

"You could join me," he whispered seductively. "You would get everything you've ever wanted."

She cast one last look at the dark wooden door before pushing Rodolphus away.

"Don't get carried away," She told him, appearing indifferent on the outside but still reeling from the effects of his touch on the inside. No matter what he offered her…_fame, power, the world_…she would always keep her sisters first.

"You are here to kill the young Lord," she told him imperiously. "And don't forget it."

Rodolphus's amused smirk told her that he didn't buy her act for a second. "As you wish," he told her before leaving the room, letting the door close behind him with a barely muffled slam.

_I will not take him up on his offer_, she repeatedly told herself. Everything he had told her, all of the sweet promises he had whispered into her ear; _you can rule the world, you can have me, you deserve it all_…she believed it, but she believed she could have it without giving up anything she already had.

_Or anyone_, she reminded herself.

If she repeated it enough, maybe that would make it true. Maybe she would eventually start to believe it.

* * *

Rodolphus Lestrange prepared to meet Tom Riddle once more, in what might be their final battle. _I have the most riding on this victory_, Rodolphus believed. If he could continue to manipulate Bellatrix Black, then he could end up with more than he ever believed he could rise to in his own kingdom.

She had played very well into his hand before, he reflected, but this was one fight that he had to complete himself. He knew some part of her was in love with him, and that would make it all the easier to bring her to his cause.

And his feelings towards her? If he had to pick one woman to be his Queen, there were certainly no other choices. They were _perfect_ for each other.

But in this never-ending circle of manipulation, just who was using who?

* * *

A/N: Well, I hope the Ted/Andromeda fluff makes up for the slight lack of Tom/Hermione fluff. That's coming up in a chapter or two. Promise! xD

I hope to hear from you all! Review away, and tell me what you think!

~Kako


	6. Chapter 6

Excelsior

A/N: Huge thanks to everyone who reviewed on chapter five! 0Rosina0, SilverLugia101, Serpent in Red, Coco96, Sakura Takanouchi, SlytherinLuver, and Annewang1.

Apologies for the long-ish wait, I accidentally lost the first part of this chapter, and my selective document recovery did not return it to me until very recently xD

Just a warning: this chapter moves through several different character's POV's. When a line break happens, most likely that means it's a completely new character or setting.

Enjoy!

* * *

_Recap of Chapter Five:_

_But in this never-ending circle of manipulation, just who was using who?_

* * *

Chapter Six

Tom Riddle plunged the shining blade of the knife square in his opponent's heart, watching with satisfaction as the light left both the eyes of Bellatrix Black and Rodolphus Lestrange, the body of one staggering back on now lifeless limbs, fluttering to the ground with hardly a sound while the other could do nothing to prevent the loss of life.

She screamed; Tom laughed.

* * *

_One hour before_

Tom left the bookstore, unintentionally slamming the door behind him as he walked briskly down the street, nothing in his exterior reflecting just how close to boiling he felt.

_Really, who cares what she thinks? _He thought angrily. He was Tom Riddle, the youngest of the Slytherin Lords. He got where he was by taking what he wanted, when he wanted it. Did he think he would've had gotten one tenth of the power he had by just _waiting_ for it to come, rather than by taking a decisive action towards seizing it?

Why did he care what she thought of him?

_Well, that is obvious_, he thought. _I don't care_.

It really was impossible to counteract, the amount of power she held over him by having that amulet clasped around her neck. Every single promise and outcome that he had ever let himself envision about his future could be obtained through that thin disk of metal.

Such a shame that she was blocking him from it. Every time he thought of the amulet, he inevitably thought of her, and just how perfectly he had to play his cards. For if he gained her trust, he gained the world. She would never even know that she had lost it.

Certainly he didn't think it was as easy as that; most games were difficult in nature, and the more players in the game the harder it usually was, although a game of that magnitude had something else entirely going in his favor.

The more players, the bigger the prize.

They were all after the same thing, he assumed, for what else could someone possibly want out of this struggle than the crown of Slytherin? This game was lethal, as he had already proven by taking out three of the players.

And Rodolphus and Tom were about to go all in. The stakes had just been upped.

Luckily for him, Tom held all the cards. He had everything lined up perfectly for this final showdown between the two; he had just to deliver the final blow. He had manipulated the situation enough to feel incredulous joy when it _did_ go according to his plan. True, he had not seen the three other witches entering the game, but he had been able to use their relationships with each other and Lestrange to his advantage, just as he was sure the fifth Lord was doing as well.

The manipulator is manipulating the manipulator manipulating someone else. A twisted food chain of influence, where Tom believed he stood at the top. Hermione would have been in that spot, he realized with disdain, if she knew the power she held. If she was a Slytherin, he never would've stood a chance. He had to laugh at Salazar's _careful_ planning—_look where it had gotten him!_

Salazar was dead; one more of his Lords was about to be so as well. He had to wonder if the past King had realized what he was doing. He had been known as a shrewd manipulator himself, yet he had devised this crazy race to determine the future leader of their kingdom.

It irked him; he _wanted_ to know why Salazar had done what he did, but why should he question it when it seemed to be going in his complete favor?

He rubbed one thumb over the heavy golden ring on the third finger of his right hand. Rodolphus was out there, picking the site of their final battle. He could sense the other Lord's presence, he was not far.

_Rodolphus was a fool_, Tom thought. He referred to his opponent as in the past on purpose, for he considered the man already dead. Anyone foolish enough to cross Tom Riddle was counting back their days, and Tom would not let Rodolphus escape him again.

In his quest for corroboration, Tom had forgotten about the other two-thirds of his assembled '_team_.' Rodolphus was predictable, and that would be his undoing, but the others, the witches; what they would do, what they _were_ already doing—that he did not know.

Would it be too late to stop them?

* * *

Andromeda's laugh came easier than she'd expected, and the particular sound seemed to almost surprise her with its authenticity. She hadn't heard her laugh in so long; _really_ listened to it, instead of just letting it escape into thin air until it was lost. This time it rang in her ears, hovering in the air at a joke of Ted's she probably wouldn't have thought was funny an hour earlier. For some reason, she felt herself warming to him. She couldn't explain it, but what she'd seen as initial faults in him were now charming little quirks that she could associate with him and only him.

_She_ blamed his persistence, and was flattered that for the first time someone genuinely wanted to get to know her, no strings attached. And it seemed like the more faults she herself revealed, the more genuine his own smile grew, and the easier their words flew, jokes exchanged, and secrets shared—not _too_ many, she decided, for there were some things she would not be proud for _anyone_ to know, least of all a stranger-turned-acquaintance who had yet to judge her on any of the mistakes of her past. There was no regret, but that did not mean she was proud of some of her actions.

Ted offered to get her another drink, and she nodded easily. He left her reluctantly, and Andromeda was once again able to focus on the present, and the secret war she was currently caught up in. Her eyes wandered to the long windows of the pub, scanning the lines of passersby until a strikingly familiar face popped out of the crowd, heading out of the bookstore down the road. He was on the opposite side of the street, but his face was unmistakable.

It was the seventh Slytherin Lord, the one Bella and Rodolphus had told her about. He was the one with control over the amulet. The haughty expression on his face disgusted her; was his victory really that assured that he didn't think she and her sisters even stood a chance?

She hadn't been able to help yet, she reflected sullenly. Her area of expertise was not in battle, but in protecting herself and those she kept close. She watched him pass, anger building inside her as she wondered what she could possibly do to help.

Her eyes lit up. Suddenly, she knew. It was so _easy_, literally staring her in the face the entire time. Something only she could do, and something she knew could give them the amulet.

She rose from her chair, leaving without a second thought. She knew he had come from the bookstore; that meant there was a high probability his companion would be waiting there for him. She hesitated in thinking just _what_ the Slytherin Lord was leaving to accomplish, hoping that it did not involve her sisters or their new ally, although her optimism was hardly dwindling from her newfound discovery.

She would impersonate the Slytherin Lord himself, and get the girl to hand over the amulet. She would finally be able to use her metamorphmagus ability to help her cause. She wanted so badly to be able to help, to have the admiration of her eldest sister instead of always feeling outside the connection that Bella and Cissy seemed to share. She agreed, they were very similar, but she had always wanted to be included in that bond. They were _sisters_, and were far more powerful together than any of them could be apart. She would finally be useful to them.

Andromeda did not give the now empty barstool another glance, her hand dropping from the worn wood of the chair back as she headed for the door. Her plan would work; she would have the amulet, and deliver it to her sisters. With its power, they could even heal Cissy.

She tried to bring another smile to her face, but found that it was far more difficult than before.

* * *

Rodolphus Lestrange wanted no distractions, and Bellatrix Black could certainly be classified as one. He had purposely led Tom Riddle to this spot; well outside the city's limits, peaceful, quiet. They would not be disturbed, and Tom could not use the cover of the city and its civilians to his advantage this time.

He wondered why the woman had followed him from the room at the inn, but he'd slowed his pace, letting her catch up until the two walked side-by-side, silently heading towards their impending future. Maybe she thought he needed _support_—he scoffed at the thought—and maybe she just wanted to join in. She had wonderful bloodlust, his Bella; he was certain she would even attack _him_ if he came in the way of her ambitions.

_And she would probably win_, he thought dryly. _Good thing I don't fight fair_.

The wind was fairly strong in this area, yet intermittent enough to be both annoying and surprising. The leaves rustled, almost in ominous preparation. Rodolphus unsheathed his knife talisman, running one callused thumb over the blade lightly. _Perfect_.

Neither of them wanted this to be a long and drawn-out affair, Rodolphus knew. It would be quick and then it would be over. One winner, one loser; such was the nature of any battle.

* * *

_Tsk, Rodolphus_, Tom thought, a growing smirk encasing his features as he used his considerable skill with the _Legilimens_ spell on his target.

_Quick hardly means poorly planned_, he mentally chided his adversary.

Rodolphus' thoughts surely were _interesting_. Tom listened in with ease, slipping past Rodolphus' nearly nonexistent mental barriers. Apparently, he loved the woman by his side, and was still deluded enough to think he stood a chance of winning.

Tom savored the idea of killing Rodolphus mentally, snapping his mind in half effortlessly. It would be simple and easy.

He frowned; _where was the challenge in that?_

No matter, he would simply do away with the competition on their level. Tom smirked; Rodolphus was right on one regard. It would not take long.

He was hidden behind a tree, the dappled cover of the leaves and branches covering his arrival. Sure, he wouldn't kill Rodolphus the easiest way he could, but that didn't mean he had to give away _all_ his advantages and announce his arrival.

As silently as he could, Tom leapt out into the clearing, firing a Blasting Curse directly at Rodolphus' chest, pulling up his own shield when the witch next to him reacted with a curse of her own.

"_Confringo!_" Tom cast again; Rodolphus was prepared this time, dodging out of the way as the curse severed several small trees behind him, the leaves and branches crashing to the ground loudly. One of Rodolphus' hands held his prized talisman, the other clutched his chest, where several long gashes had cut through the skin.

The witch was livid. "_Cruci—"_

Tom didn't even give her the chance to finish the spell, blowing her back with a quickly cast Impediment Jinx. She would not understand, this battle was—_should be_ between only Rodolphus and Tom.

Rodolphus' knife flew through the air as he swiped it towards Tom, who evaded the attacks with purposefully exaggerated ease. Rodolphus' shirt and coat were coated with blood, and as Tom's own Cruciatus Curse hit, he knew Rodolphus was reaching his breaking point. Rodolphus staggered back, doubling over as the pain coursed through his body as Tom held the curse in place.

The witch had recovered, and was striding back towards Tom with a look of complete malice on her pretty face.

"Don't interfere," he hissed, the deadly intent clearly evident in his voice, removing the Cruciatus to leave Rodolphus shuddering on the ground as Tom turned to threaten his companion. Rodolphus curled his fingers back around his knife, blood spotting the green and brown of the fallen leaves.

He charged, surprising Tom with his agility even in his injured state. The knife glanced off Tom's shoulder, imbued with a touch of Tom's own Cruciatus Curse. It shocked straight to the bone, but Rodolphus wasn't strong enough to continue the blow deeper. Tom wrenched the knife from his shoulder, beating Rodolphus back with a punch to his jaw.

Tom glanced at the knife in his hand, growing slight regard for Rodolphus' ingenuity in using it to deflect part of his own curse. Rodolphus' glare sent a smirk to Tom's own face as he toyed with the blade.

Even the idea of killing Rodolphus with his own weapon appealed to Tom. He had no need for a crude talisman like that, but it would serve its purpose. Rodolphus charged again, his concentration blown as he sought in vain to retrieve his talisman.

Tom Riddle plunged the shining blade of the knife square in his opponent's heart, watching with satisfaction as the light left both the eyes of Bellatrix Black and Rodolphus Lestrange, the body of one staggering back on now lifeless limbs, fluttering to the ground with hardly a sound while the other could do nothing to prevent the loss of life.

She screamed; Tom laughed.

* * *

Ted Tonks flagged down the bartender again, feeling that just one second spent away from this marvel of a woman was a second not worth living. He'd thought that his life was over the moment he'd crossed over into this world of magic, but he realized that he had come over just to find _her_. He'd already decided that she was the one for him. Now he just had to convince her of that fact.

He figured he was doing a pretty good job of it so far; Andromeda seemed to be relaxing from whatever stress that occupied her mind. Whatever stress that was, Ted did not know—Andromeda had been conveniently vague on most aspects of her daily life, although Ted had gotten pieces of her personality through simple unassuming questions; some hilarious, some serious, all working at piecing the puzzle that was Andromeda Black together. He had painstakingly collected the border pieces, and now was working his way towards the center.

_If you could eat one thing for the rest of your life, what would that be?_

_What is your favorite flower? _And through that, indirectly, _what is your favorite color?_

_Are you happy for summer to be over?_

_Tell me your favorite childhood memory_.

The last had been confusing, as Andromeda tried to explain Hogwarts to Ted, but the other questions were easy. Andromeda loved fried mushrooms, admired wisteria, and preferred summer over all other seasons for the simple fact that she was reunited with the family she barely saw otherwise, an interesting detail she had divulged without any curious secondary questioning on Ted's part. He, for one, couldn't explain why he felt this strange urge to know _everything_ about Andromeda, he just simply found her the most interesting and beautiful person he'd ever met. It was like he would do anything just for another smile she bestowed so frequently on him or for her acceptance of him. Things that should be free, he viewed as priceless.

He had asked her one more question: _What do you want, 'Dromeda? What do you want most of all?_

She had given him a confused look, and the look remained after he explained his question. One thing Ted had noticed about Andromeda, she was the most selfless person he had ever met, to the point where it almost seemed self-degenerative. It was subtle, but it was still there. It worried him that she had no answer to the question; that all her wishes and desires were simply products of another's wishing or wanting. It was healthy to want things, Ted thought.

He did not mean _things_ like simple tangible objects one could buy in a store, but _goals_ and _aspirations_. Some people found that in a career, others a family. Andromeda, she…it wasn't that she wanted _nothing_, Ted thought, but that she'd never even given the subject a thought. She had no _idea_ what she wanted.

Ted's mouth curved up in a smile. He could answer the question for her with a humored _'you want me, of course_,' but he felt too much for her to throw away the concern he felt for whatever unhealthy attachment she had to whatever '_work_' she did. She refused to speak about her profession, and the only reasons Ted could think of covering up something so basic like that was its possible confidential nature, its possible _illegal_ nature, and the equal possibility that it was something she was plainly not proud of. The first would be understandable, but the latter two worried him.

Sure, Ted hadn't known Andromeda for long, but it felt as though he'd known her all his life. He'd never experienced such a deep connection with anyone before, and he would do anything to preserve and further it. He cared for Andromeda deeply, and he did not want to see her get hurt.

He glanced back, expecting to see her leaning back in her chair, her legs crossed, maybe even playing with her coaster—he'd noticed she hated having her hands unoccupied—but instead his smile dropped upon seeing her chair empty.

His eyes roved the pub, not moving long before he saw her, moving towards the door with a look of grim, set determination on her face. He abandoned his order, moving towards her and becoming more unsettled with each step. After just three, his legs felt like iron, his arms hanging just as stiffly by his sides.

_What's happening?_ Ted thought. He knew something was wrong; Andromeda looked…he didn't even know how to describe it, but he knew somehow that she was nervous about something, and it must be bad. If she couldn't trust him to help her with it…didn't she see that he just wanted to help her? He _needed_ to help her; in that instant, it seemed to be the most important thing he could do.

She needed him at a moment like this most of all. He didn't hesitate as he ran for the door, wrenching it open. Besides, it wasn't like he could let the girl of his dreams walk away from him. He'd follow her. He'd save her.

* * *

A/N: I know, I know, horrible cliffhanger. But, you know what that means! By reviewing, you can give me the motivation to update faster! HG/TR action is coming in 2 chapters, but for now you will have to make do with all of the Andromeda/Ted fluff!

There are so many of you on alert, and I'd love to hear from you! So review away, and I'll get the next chapter up soon!

~Kako


	7. Chapter 7

Excelsior

A/N: Thanks to everyone who reviewed on chapter six! Sakura Takanouchi, IcyLugia101, Ankoku Dezaia, Serpent in Red, SlytherinLuver, Coco96, 0Rosina0, xXTwilight PrincessXx, Annewang1, emmarick, 930, Cursed21, Ashes of the Phoenix, serenity12345, KnoKnayme, Sister to the Dark Lord, Lildaani, Jean-Grey, siddyi, Chasing, Lizzy likes the hot guy, and Lady Juice!

This chapter is dedicated to Sakura Takanouchi, my twin, for her/our birthday.

* * *

_Recap of Chapter Six:_

_She needed him at a moment like this most of all. He ran for the door, wrenching it open. Besides, it wasn't like he could let the girl of his dreams walk away from him. He'd follow her. He'd save her._

* * *

Chapter Seven

Hermione ran one finger down the page of the book that lay open on a table before her, stopping at the section marked _Slytherin_. She'd purposefully chosen a book on the four founding monarchs of the kingdoms, hoping to find out more about how the amulet around her neck was created, and why all of a sudden it was enabling her with its power.

She fished the amulet out from under her cloak, studying it closely. The snakes, the swirling letter _'S,'_ and the silver only slightly tarnished around the edges all spoke volumes to Hermione about the figurative and literal weight she carried around her neck. The entire _people _of a kingdom were counting on her to choose their next ruling King, and although she herself had no stake in the kingdom's outcome or knew any of its civilians—besides Tom, she reminded herself—she could not take this role lightly.

The Hufflepuff section had come first in the book, and Hermione had skimmed it lightly, the ending section on the dissolution of the kingdom the only part that had caught her attention. Helga Hufflepuff was a smart woman, Hermione thought, to have correctly predicted the fallacy of the four distinct kingdoms. It only precipitated war and competition in a land where the people were already destined for conflict simply by their place of birth and ancestral lineage. The four Founders themselves had had a falling-out over magical regulations in Hogwarts, the school every wizarding child attended, including Hermione.

The section on the kingdom of Slytherin, Hermione decided, was ridiculous and biased. There was no actual content or structure, only on the supremacy of their pureblood-only regime and the glory of the Goblin Wars of 1411, a subject Hermione found to be horribly gruesome and a senseless combination of really good propaganda and cultivated prejudice. The locket was only mentioned once, in a description below a picture of a much younger Salazar. The figure in the picture moved, like those in all other wizarding books, straightening his robes and holding a regal pose. She scanned the caption, her eyes widening in surprise.

_The talisman of Salazar Slytherin is a pendant, supposedly commissioned and gifted to him by Godric Gryffindor, reigning sovereign of the kingdom of Gryffindor. _

Hermione remembered her earlier encounter with the spirit of Salazar. She rolled her eyes. _Typical Slytherin impassiveness_. According to the book in front of her, Salazar had been the first to withdraw from the tight knit support of the other Founders, but he would not have kept the amulet if he had truly turned from his friends. He seemed hardly the sentimental type, but as Hermione turned over the amulet in her palm, she realized that she shared his view that power was not a thing to be trifled with. By simply _wanting _to control it, one proved that they were not fit for the task. True control would have to be earned.

Hermione drummed her fingers on the table, still reading as she vaguely noticed the sound of the main door opening and closing in swift succession, the sound of footsteps following as they traced a path around the store. She had almost succeeded in toning them out when she noticed that the footsteps had stopped. She reluctantly raised her eyes from the text, surprised to find Tom Riddle standing there, looking at her intently as he leaned against a bookshelf awkwardly.

She moved away from the book reluctantly, the pendant swinging from her neck. His eyes followed the movements of the amulet, but Hermione wasn't paying attention to him, scanning the rest of the bookstore to be sure that no one else was in a position to overhear them.

"You're back already?" She asked, surprised. "What, is this a record for you? Or did Rodolphus not show up?"

The briefest of scowls crossed Tom's face. Hermione looked at him expectantly, puzzled. "You're acting strange today. Are you alright?"

"I am fine," Tom insisted. Hermione frowned. Even the way he carried himself seemed…off. The difference was mostly in the set of his mouth and jaw and the slightly slumped posture, but Hermione had been with Tom long enough to notice that he was not acting like himself. "Are you sick?" she asked.

"No," he answered, noticing the open book on the desk. "Slytherin?"

_Why did he sound so confused? _"There's more history documented on Slytherin than any of the other kingdoms."

"Naturally. History is written by the winners," Tom responded. Hermione rolled her eyes, closing the book gently. _Standard Tom_.

"We need to get out of here, and fast," Tom told her, his eyes darting towards the row of glass that comprised the shop door and windows. "Let me see your amulet."

_My amulet? Tom really _is _acting strange_, Hermione decided, lifting up the heavy pendant and holding it out for him to see. "Is there something wrong?"

She had been holding Tom's gaze, so she was both surprised and confused to hear the word "Yes" spoken in Tom's dangerously composed voice, whipping her head around to see that there were not one, but _two _Tom's in the room, the second wearing an expression she'd only seen on him once, a combination of determination and fury he'd worn seconds before he'd killed Rabastan. As odd as it was that there were two Toms, she didn't think she could stomach watching one of them kill the other.

"Get away from him!" The second Tom shouted, but Hermione's eyes darted between the two, unsure who to listen to. Which Tom could she trust?

"Don't listen to him!" The first Tom ordered, moving to try to pull Hermione closer to him. She backed up, attempting to stare the two of them down.

"Which one of you is the real Tom?" She asked accusingly, waiting for their answer.

"That's easy, _I _am," the first one answered immediately. "Like hell he is," the second countered with disdain. "Prove it," Hermione responded.

The second Tom shot her an annoyed glance. "And just _how _would you like me to do that?"

Hermione immediately thought of an idea, mouth widening into a grin. "What was the last thing you said to me before you left?"

Both Tom's looked equally uneasy, surprisingly. Hermione waited for their response.

"I told you to stay out of the battle because you'd probably get yourself killed," the second Tom answered slowly. "And I would have been right, by the way," he added. "You're too valuable to risk like that."

Hermione jumped away from the first Tom—the _fake _Tom, she reminded herself—as he reached out for her again, jaw clenched in resolve. "Get _away _from her!" Tom warned, casting a quick "_Homorphus!" _charm.

"Thanks," Hermione muttered quickly as the two of them watched the fake Tom shudder in apparent pain, goose-bumps racing over his skin as his hair began to slowly grow and change color.

"Now we'll see who you really are," Hermione said, clutching the amulet tightly in one hand.

The fake Tom gave them a panicked glance, backing up slowly until they hit the bookshelf behind them, knocking a few of the smaller paperbacks to the floor.

Hermione felt a brief pang of guilt for the state of the books, but she kept her eyes fixed on their new opponent, watching in apprehension and curiosity as the hair that grew out past their shoulders was now a deep brown color, their legs and arms shrinking by several inches.

"_He's_…a _she_." Tom looked puzzled for a moment, before chuckling to himself. _Really_, what were the odds? He had to admit it was a clever ploy; from watching Hermione, the girl seemed to impersonate him well enough to convince her before he showed up.

"Polyjuice potion?" Hermione asked. Tom was already running through the list of interrogation/torture spells to use on her to figure out why she was after the amulet, but something about the woman seemed oddly familiar…

"No," she spat. "Metamophmagi."

Tom's eyes widened. "I'm impressed, but you will need more than that to keep your life. Was this little disaster worth it?" He mocked.

"No!"

The voice came from the doorway, and Tom sighed in frustration at one _more _person disrupting his plans.

"And just _who _might you be?" Tom asked, trying to keep his eyes trained on both. He'd handled worse odds, but he couldn't sense any magical potential from this most recent interruption.

"Andromeda! Who _are _these people? What's going on?"

…_And _the man was ignoring him. Nice. Tom groaned; the man still didn't seem to care one bit about Tom or Hermione, who had not let go of the amulet since he'd returned. He had the sneaking suspicion that all of his hard work in trying to open her up to him had just gone down the drain, and he'd have to work even harder to try to get the amulet from her. He wanted to take his frustration out on something, but they were making it unreasonably difficult!

Hermione gasped in realization. "I remember you! You and your sister tried to attack me in The Leaky Cauldron!"

_Her and her sister? _Tom knew it was no coincidence; she must be in league with Rodolphus and the woman he had left behind to grieve.

"Attacked who? _You? _You wouldn't hurt a fly, 'Dromeda!"

Andromeda ignored Ted's appeals, ignored the disappointed look in his eyes, and _especially _ignored the way it made her feel. She felt lower than dirt, reduced to stealing someone's identity and squandering her magic on a hastily thrown together plan to retrieve the amulet. No matter how much she'd pretended otherwise, this wasn't her. This was her sister's world, but the more time she spent in Ted's the more she thought she fit in better with him than anyone else.

"Who even _are_ you?" Tom snapped at him, his patience finally reached its end.

"I'm Ted Tonks, and I love her," he declared passionately. Tom rolled his eyes, ready to cast a _Cruciatus _no matter what Hermione would think about it.

"Listen…I'm sorry," Andromeda began, addressing Hermione and Tom although she simultaneously laced her fingers through Ted's. "I was wrong to deceive you like I did. The amulet is in good hands," she nodded at Hermione, "but I need to warn you. My sisters will come after you. You need to leave Diagon Alley immediately before they have the chance to attack again."

"She's right, we should go," Hermione agreed. "Right, Tom? They won't be able to follow us if they don't know which way we've gone."

Tom didn't want to agree with either of them, but he knew they were right. The longer they stayed here, the more the other Lords would be drawn to Diagon Alley. If they could sneak into Slytherin right under their noses, the amulet's powers would be deeply amplified and he'd be able to put more political pressure on his competition.

"Let's go." Tom wrapped an arm around Hermione, still keeping himself between her and Andromeda and Ted as they left the bookstore.

Andromeda laughed bitterly once they had left. "He needn't bother. After my transformation, my power's just about gone. I'm not a threat to anyone."

Ted's usually cheery expression was replaced by one of concern. "Are you going to be alright?" He asked.

"I think I will be," she said, managing a small smile just for him.

* * *

"Come on, let's take one of the back streets," Tom told her, pointing to one of the alleys darting off to the right. They had headed back to the stables quickly, on the lookout for any sight of the two witches after the amulet.

They had barely stepped five paces into the alley when Tom was suddenly thrown back by a powerful surprise _Impedimenta _curse. "Tom!" Hermione shrieked, trying to tap into the amulet's power to pull up some kind of barrier, but all she got from the amulet was a slight warmth.

She felt the pull of a summoning charm as more hexes were sent Tom's way, who had by now recovered and was shielding himself from the blasts, hesitating slightly before casting a _Reducto_ curse that missed the flying Hermione by inches. His curse blasted the brick wall around them apart, filling the alley with rubble and dust. Tom surged forward, shielding his eyes from the cloudy debris before he cleared the alley just in time to see the carriage he thought he'd left in Hogsmeade taking off into the sky, surely with Hermione on board. The loud, cackling laugh of Bellatrix echoed all around him as he ran for the stables with his one hope of following them in mind.

* * *

"So, what shall we do with the girl now?" Narcissa asked.

"We'll kill her when we get back to our Manor, Cissy!" Bellatrix hissed.

In the hour or so that they had been traveling, Hermione had kept to her side of the silk-upholstered bench in the rocking carriage, pressing herself as far back against the wooden wall as she could.

"Just out of curiosity, _why _exactly are you going to kill me?" She asked, interrupting the two sister's argument.

"Will you give us the amulet?" Bellatrix asked, her grinning sneer all gleaming teeth and crazy stare.

"Of course not!" Hermione stammered. _Come on, Tom, any time now, no need to hurry or anything!_

"Then there's your answer," Bellatrix said sweetly. Hermione cringed, managing a quick look out the window. They were below the cloud level, but she would definitely not survive the fall down if she jumped. She needed a way to bring down the carriage. She couldn't count on Tom's rescue; she had no idea if he was even following her or not. The harsh glint of the sun through the carriage windows gave her an idea.

Hermione gritted her teeth in preparation before hugging the amulet tightly to her chest. She would not be giving it up—_or her life_, she reflected—anytime soon, least of all to them.

She had the perfect spell in mind; Hermione tried to quell her rising panic as she tried to tap into the amulet's power. She'd already cast this spell before, so she figured she could do it again.

Without warning, the fire tore through the top of the carriage, quickly catching hold of the fabric as it worked its way across the roof. Narcissa screamed while Bellatrix immediately tried an _Aguamenti_ spell, which only succeeded in knocking out one of the glass windows and weakening the hold on the lock, causing the door to swing out as the carriage rocked wildly in the air.

Hermione was holding on to both the amulet and the bench seat for dear life, realizing with horror that her plan was working a little _too _well—while the carriage was descending through the sky at a fast enough rate for the panicked feelings in her stomach to accelerate even further, it was clear that the fire would devour them all before the carriage crashed.

Bellatrix was trying to hold the stabilization charm and maintain the _Aguamenti_, but lost both momentarily in shock when she gasped out, "_He_…that's _impossible!_"

The carriage swung violently to the left, and as Hermione was pinned against the wall she caught a glimpse of Tom Riddle, in fast pursuit, on a thestral.

If the situation was anything else, and she was not _half _as glad as she was to see him, Hermione surely would have laughed. As it was, she was more concerned about the thick smoke that was emanating from the burning fabric and wood of the carriage than she was about Tom's comical rescue methods.

The ground was rushing up to meet them at an alarming rate, and Hermione hoped that the amulet cared enough about its bearer to help keep her safe. A bevy of spells rushed through her mind as Hermione focused on _Impedimenta_, scrunching her eyes closed as the carriage impacted with the ground, slowed down enough so that a few dislocated embers burned her arms through her robes. She swatted them away, hurriedly breaking through the door and running as fast as she could away from the burning carriage. Bellatrix and Narcissa were still trying to put out the fire, and she saw Tom landing only a few yards away.

He extended a hand to her to pull her up behind him, waiting until she wrapped her arms around his waist to steady herself before taking off again.

"We don't want to give them enough time to track us," Tom told her loudly to overcome the sound of the wind.

"How did you know where they were taking me?" Hermione asked. Her only reply was the sound of the wind whipping around them.

"I trust you," Hermione told him. "Didn't I prove that to you today?"

"Why do you care?" Tom asked shortly.

"Because _you _do." She paused. "Don't you trust me? Tell me what's going on."

He exhaled loudly, turning away from her. "I'm sorry, but…I _can't_…_yet_."

Hermione frowned in disappointment. He said he was sorry, but she supposed it was just as insincere as it sounded. Everything about his posture and expression conveyed guilt, but his eyes remained as alert as ever. She wanted to figure him out, but it was impossible unless he let her.

She noticed that they were flying in the direction of the now-setting sun.

"Do you know where we're going?" Hermione asked, reluctantly giving him the benefit of a conversation change. "Not really," Tom responded. "When I was in the air I thought I saw a group of abandoned buildings this way, we should be able to find some shelter, at least."

She supposed it didn't matter anyway. It seemed like leaving Diagon Alley had undone all of her progress in getting to know her new protector. He seemed unhappy, but she couldn't quite peg the source. Hermione was proud of her new control over the amulet's powers, but Tom still seemed to think that it was a danger to her.

She sighed. She was far more intelligent than he gave her credit for. For instance, Hermione realized that he had never really given her a straight answer to her question.

"_Don't you trust me? Tell me what's going on."_

"_I'm sorry, but…I can't…yet."_

Which question had he been answering, and which had he been evading? He'd always excused that he was a Slytherin, and this reserve and detachment was in his blood, but she dismissed it without a second thought. No matter what he said, she knew this much of the truth: he was so much more than that.

* * *

A/N: I am _so sorry _to take this long in updating. Seriously, I don't know why it's taken this long to get my act together. I hope you all like this chapter; I'm planning on getting new chapters up of everything else very, very soon.

Andromeda and Ted walk off together into the sunset in this chapter, so now we've got all that free screen-time for some HG/TR fluffy goodness!

Today also happens to be my birthday, so I'd love a nice review and a slice of cake to celebrate, yes? xD

Thanks for reading!

~Kako


	8. Chapter 8

Excelsior

A/N: Coolest (un)related news EVER. So, in Rome there is a hotel called the Excelsior!! It's on Via Veneto and is super pretty, and when I saw it I just had to go in, so I went and looked around for a bit. I'm modeling a future story locale on the main lounge xD If anyone ever visits Rome, look out for it!

Happy New Year to everyone who reviewed on Chapter Seven: xGabriellaxBolton, Blueglaceon, Pstibbons, Svelte Rose, Serpent in Red, Patricia95, SlytherinLuver, ombeline, ShadX - Shadow Elf, Lady Juice, Sister to the Dark Lord, NightRaven13, RandomGal930, creative-writing-girl13, Coco06, IamLeahsConscience, satoz, Lizzy likes the hot guy, Priscalthum, Lilmissxx, , and WINtEr SuMmEr AuTuM SpRiNg.

* * *

_Recap of Chapter Seven:_

_He'd always excused that he was a Slytherin, and this reserve and detachment was in his blood, but she dismissed it without a second thought. No matter what he said, she knew this much of the truth: he was so much more than that._

_

* * *

_Chapter Eight

Hermione shivered again, unintentionally clinging closer to Tom as the thestral flew through the air. It was freezing, and Hermione had been hit by Bellatrix's _Aguamenti_ spell when she tried to extinguish the flaming carriage, so the bitter air was making her wet clothes seem even colder.

"H-How much longer?" She asked.

"I'm not sure," Tom replied, reluctantly. "It hasn't been following a single thing I've told it to do, but thestrals are known to have excellent senses of direction, so I can only hope it knows where it's going. I can't imagine what could possibly be out this way."

"I hate f-flying," she muttered into his back. It didn't matter whether it was a broomstick, a portkey, a flying carriage, or a thestral, the feeling was still the same, and Hermione hardly trusted the winged horse carrying her to make sure she didn't plummet to her death.

The sudden drop caused her to hang on tighter as the thestral sank through the air. "I think I see something," Tom called to her. "It's landing."

_My stomach can tell that just fine, thanks_, Hermione thought as the thestral took another, much sharper dive. As she peered around Tom's shoulder she could see it too, although the wind was whipping around so harshly that her hair was getting in her eyes, so it was certainly possible that the small ring of lit houses she saw in the distance was a figment of her imagination.

She hoped not, but the growling in her stomach protested optimistically. She wondered when either of them had eaten last, and decided that it was far too long ago. Living this kind of life had those consequences, she knew, but the one benefit she could think of was a heightened sense for danger.

_Speaking of…_

"Are you sure this is safe?" Hermione yelled to be heard over the rushing wind. "I mean, this whole country is practically deserted, so what kind of people would live this far out in isolation?"

"Someone who doesn't want to be found," Tom agreed. "We don't have much of a choice, though."

The thestral was landing and Hermione could make out the buildings more closely. Each of the houses was _huge_, although the one in the center was by far the largest. It seemed like sections of it had been built over time, with mismatched wood and lopsided shingles building up to a slightly off-center looking design. The grounds of the tiny street were meticulously kept, and Hermione could see gardens of vegetables and flowers scattered between the houses. She wondered who lived there.

Tom had climbed off first, and Hermione followed him, nearly collapsing to the ground out of exhaustion. Her legs felt like jelly, and every part of her ached in some way. She leaned against one of the several light-posts dotting the street as they both looked around for any sign of life. They hadn't exactly been quiet about their arrival, but no inhabitants of the little town seemed to be investigating their newest visitors.

"Come on, let's just try the largest house," Tom said. "They'll probably have the nicest food."

Hermione could hardly argue with him at this point, she felt that tired. She forced her feet to move in the direction of the gate to the white picket fence surrounding the house. It wasn't locked, and they entered easily, walking stiffly up to the front step, where Tom knocked loudly on the door.

"Hello? Is anyone home?" Hermione called out, trying to look past the tinted glass of the windows. It wasn't any less cold now that they were on the ground, but the promise of a warm house and food was enough to make her feel warmer already.

They could hear noises and muffled voices coming from inside the house, which was followed by the sound of the door's hinges squeaking as it opened. Hermione could feel the heat from the entryway before she saw the faces of the couple standing in the doorway.

"Who are you?" The man asked warily. His wife scowled at him before adding, "What he meant was: can we help you?"

"I'm Hermione, and this is Tom," Hermione answered. "We're…a bit lost, and we were wondering if you could possibly let us stay the night and provide us with some food? We don't have much, but—"

The woman was already ushering the two inside. "Of course you can stay, dears, we don't get many visitors around here, do we, Arthur?"

Her husband was turning on lights in the kitchen, and when they walked further into the house Hermione was able to appreciate just how vast it really was. A staircase rose up several stories above her head, curving around the width of the house, windows rising above it. The floor creaked with every step, but she barely had time to look at more before the woman was guiding them further into the kitchen and sitting them down at the table.

"Dear, your clothes! You're soaked! Take off that cloak, right now," the woman instructed Hermione, who complied, shivering.

The woman opened a few cabinet doors, pursing her lips. "We're all out of clean towels, dear," she said apologetically. Her eyes shifted to Tom, lounging in his chair, his own perfectly dry cloak wrapped around him.

"Young man, give this poor girl your cloak at once!" she glared at Tom. "You're just going to sit by and let her freeze! In my day, we had _gentlemen_"—at this she leaned over and kissed her husband on the cheek—"who would look out for the welfare of a lady, but I see now that the times have changed!" The tea kettle whistled, and the woman let it steam, eyes still locked on Tom's. "Well, go on!"

Hermione set her own wet cloak on the chair next to her as Tom shrugged out of his own, handing it to her without a word. She took it gratefully, wrapping it around herself as smoothly as she could, considering her exhaustion. The woman slid a cup of tea under her nose, and she picked it up, enjoying how the hot ceramic warmed her hands.

"What are—" Tom was cut off by the woman with a wave of her hand. "I'm sure we all have an equal amount of questions for each other, but that can wait until morning. Right now all you need to know is that I'm Molly Weasley, dears, and this is Arthur, and you're safe here. You'll eat and get some rest, Merlin knows you look like you need it, and we'll talk again in the morning."

* * *

Hermione slept in a tiny room on the second floor, with thin blankets and Tom's borrowed cloak to keep her warm, although when she woke the next morning she felt like she'd gotten the best sleep of her life. A cracked mirror on a dusty armoire told her just how awful her hair looked, and she ran her fingers through it as best as she could before heading downstairs.

She walked into the kitchen and stopped upon seeing the row of red-heads staring back at her. Molly and Arthur were nowhere to be seen, but they'd warned the two of them that they had a rather large family and would meet the rest of them later.

Hermione managed an awkward wave and settled into the only open chair, next to a young girl. "Hi. I'm Hermione. I'm…a guest," she finished lamely.

"We've never had a guest before," said one teenager who looked about her age, mouth full of pancakes. The one on his right elbowed him in the ribs, and they all quieted down again.

"Umm…lovely house you have here," Hermione said in an attempt to re-start the conversation. The one still eating the pancakes snorted, although the red-head across from her smiled and stood up, his fang earring glinting from the light pouring into the room through the uncovered window. "Let me get you some breakfast, and we'll see what we can do about making you feel less like a stranger and more like a part of the family."

* * *

Hermione learned that there were seven of them in total, _plus_ Molly and Arthur. _Seven! _That was unheard of for any family she'd known in Hogsmeade. They'd introduced themselves in order of age as Bill, Charlie, Percy, Fred, George, Ron, and Ginny. They'd talked for a bit before Molly wandered in, and shooed them all away so she could talk to Hermione.

"Where's Tom?" She asked.

"He was still asleep," Molly chuckled. "I sent Percy to check up on him earlier, but he was probably every bit as tired as you were. There's not much to do around here, though. Arthur and Charlie worked earlier on trying to feed your thestral, but it's fairly difficult when you can't see what you're working with." She laughed again. "I suppose that's for the best, though."

"What _is _this place?" Hermione asked.

"Welcome to the town of Ottery St. Catchpole," Molly responded proudly. "Population might be a bit on the small side, but we've got everything we need right here."

From the book on the founders Hermione had read the previous day, she knew that the land of Hufflepuff was mostly deserted; she wouldn't be surprised if they were all that remained of the kingdom.

"That's a beautiful necklace, dear," Molly continued, and Hermione reached up to grasp the pendant in her hand. "Thank you. It's my…talisman," she found herself replying almost without thinking. "Do…you have one?"

"It's right above your head," Molly replied, pointing to the wall. A large clock hung behind her, but what was unique about it were the gold-plated names of each member of the Weasley family, with the clock's arrows pointing to each name and a specific condition. She saw that the majority of the Weasley's arrows rested on the demarcation '_home_.'

"It's lovely," Hermione said. Molly chuckled. "It's from Arthur's side of the family, he's obsessed with things from over the wall; the idea that people can live without knowing magic fascinates him."

"Really?"

"Yes, he's got quite the extensive collection of junk," Molly replied with a roll of her eyes. "We take trips over to Diagon Alley once or twice a year, for supplies, and Arthur always manages to pick up more Muggle rubbish! And he _pays _for these things!"

Hermione laughed while Molly recounted how Arthur had given her a toy called a _snow globe _for their last anniversary as she heard the wooden floor creaking again, and a few seconds later Tom walked through the door. He looked aggravated, like sleeping in the same clothes he'd worn yesterday was as unwelcome as another Slytherin attack. At least, Hermione hoped, in Hufflepuff they'd have less problems to worry about. Tom sat at the table next to Hermione, a plate of scrambled eggs and bacon in his hands. He ate as Hermione finished her own breakfast while Molly busied herself with cleaning up.

"Now that you're both finished," Molly continued. "I have someone I'd like you to meet."

* * *

They followed Molly out of the house and down the street. Even though it was daytime, everything still looked empty, and Molly knocked on the door to a smaller, cottage-styled house, a few flowers peeking out of window flowerboxes. Hermione had to wonder just _who_ they were going to be meeting.

Nothing happened, so Molly knocked again.

"Oh, for goodness sakes," she muttered, trying the handle. It was unlocked, so she opened it and bustled Hermione and Tom inside. "She won't mind, she probably just forgot we were coming."

"_Who_, exactly, forgot?" Tom asked as Molly pushed him gently into the sitting room.

"Molly, is that you?" A voice called from somewhere deep inside the house.

Molly gritted her teeth, gesturing for Hermione to sit on a cream-colored sofa. "Don't mind her, dears, she _arranged_ this whole meeting, but she's getting a little soft in her old age."

Hermione noticed how sharply Tom was glaring at the back of Molly's head as she tried to push him into a yellow armchair before settling herself on the sofa next to Hermione. "Why did you feel the need to alert the whole of this country to our presence?" He asked warily. "We won't be staying here long, it's hardly worth the inconvenience—"

"I'll bring the tea!" yelled the same voice, and Hermione swallowed a giggle as they heard the sound of porcelain or glass breaking in the next room.

A moment later a large, short woman entered the room, a tea set magically levitating behind her. She was relatively unremarkable looking, with her brown hair tied up on top of her head, but Hermione recognized her instantly; her picture was in every book Hermione had ever read on the four Founders.

"Hermione, Tom, I'd like you to meet Helga Hufflepuff," Molly introduced. "Helga, this is Hermione and Tom, our…guests."

Helga glanced back and forth from Hermione to Tom, a curiously shrewd smile on her lips. "I see," she responded. "It is a pleasure to meet you."

"And you as well," Hermione replied enthusiastically as Tom said "likewise."

"Now, who wants tea?"

* * *

Helga had instantly recognized the amulet as Slytherin's, and at her request Hermione recounted their entire story to her, including their recent narrow escape from a trio of witches and one of the Slytherin lords. Tom was conspicuously silent, eating a cucumber sandwich and drinking from Helga's magically refilling tea set.

"You do not have to worry about a thing while you are staying in Ottery St. Catchpole," Helga reassured them. "My magic shields this place from any outside interference or detection. No one will be able to locate you while you remain here."

"Thank you," Hermione said. There were all kinds of questions she wanted to ask Helga, after all it wasn't every day you got to meet a _founder_, and the last one alive at that. She bit her tongue, hesitantly.

"If you don't mind my asking, why _are_ you living out here?" Hermione asked. From the way Tom straightened up at her question, he seemed to be interested in the answer as well. Hermione watched Helga as she readjusted her position on a yellow striped chair, returning her teacup to its saucer.

"The founders' monarchy was breaking up, and their magic was _changing_ them. I saw firsthand what it did to Godric and Rowena, and I'm sure Salazar was just better at hiding it, or he liked what was happening, I do not know," she answered. "Either way, as the kingdoms' power weakened, so did the power of the talismans contained within. Families began fighting each other, stealing their magic to stop their own from running out. Hufflepuff is mostly agrarian, as I'm sure you've noticed, so what few families remained re-located elsewhere. I knew there was nothing more I could do, so I left. There were several families who still considered me their ruler, so I agreed to let them remain with me. We live peacefully here; you are the first visitors we've ever had, I believe." She laughed and wiped her mouth with a napkin. "Normally my magic would prevent you from even entering this town, but I believe your talisman canceled mine out." She winked at Hermione.

"Really?" Hermione stared down at the thick silver pendant. "I'm getting better at using its power, but it's so _frustrating_ sometimes."

"You can use it?" Helga seemed astonished. "That's quite something."

"It's not very strong because you're not in Slytherin," Molly added. "Talismans always work better in the land where they were originally created."

Hermione was still focused on the amulet; the metal seemed unusually warm today as she traced the patterns on the front with her thumb. The chain rested heavily against her neck, and she wondered when she had gotten so attached to it. Just a few days ago she couldn't wait until she got rid of it, but now she felt uneasy at even the thought of handing it off to someone else. _Besides_, she reassured herself, _none of the available candidates I've seen so far have been worthy of it. I doubt any of the others would be, either_.

"Oh my word, is it noon already?" Molly exclaimed, glancing at a small, ornate clock in the corner of the room as it chimed the hour. "We've stayed far too long, and I'm sure my boys are already waiting on their lunches."

"Speaking of lunches, I believe your thestral ate all of my daffodils for his," Helga said to Hermione as the four stood up.

"Oh, I'm so—"

Helga cut off her apology with a sunny smile. "Do not worry about it. I enjoy gardening, and it is good to know that my efforts are being appreciated, even in this aberrant way."

Molly was already ushering Hermione through the door, but Helga stopped Tom with a hand to his shoulder. "Tom, stay a minute, would you? There is something I would like to discuss with you."

* * *

As the two of them walked back to the Weasley's house, Molly waved to and greeted a man named Xenophilius, who was outside waving around a butterfly net; Hermione never heard the reason why. Molly pointed out the other neighbors until they reached her house, and she was right, the entire family was already assembled inside the kitchen, working on setting the table and preparing their food. Molly and Hermione joined right in, and she never noticed until the plates were being cleared that Tom was missing.

Molly evaded the question, so Hermione sat in their small library with a clearly Muggle book on locomotives she'd found. She was barely through the third chapter when Tom stormed into the room. Hermione turned the page without looking up, closing the book around her hand to mark her place. Tom seemed to be in one of his moods, so Hermione crossed her legs on the paisley patterned sofa as she stared at him.

"What's wrong?"

"We should be leaving soon," Tom said.

"Why are you in such a hurry?" Hermione asked.

"We've stayed here too long."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "That's no answer. And besides, where's the thestral?"

"Where's the—?" Tom brushed aside the lace curtains and peered outside. The thestral was nowhere to be found. He inwardly cursed. "We don't need it. We'll…walk."

"Like hell we will," Hermione said. "You're out of your mind if you think I'm _walking_ to—just _where _would we even go?"

He opened his mouth to say, '_Slytherin, where I will become king, and promptly exile you for your insolence. Oh, and leave the amulet on the bureau on your way out, thank you_,' but that obviously wouldn't be in the best interests of his plan so he shut his mouth, choosing instead to silently glare at Hermione.

"This would be easier if you'd just _tell_ me what's got you so riled up, you know," Hermione continued conversationally. "For the first time we've got a stable source of shelter and food and you want to leave that to go off camping again in the wilderness just to avoid some rogue Slytherins who aren't even a threat to us here?"

"Well, when you put it like _that_," Tom said sarcastically. "Excuse _me_ if I don't think the amulet is safe here, that's all. I don't trust them."

"You don't trust anyone, Tom," Hermione responded. "I like it here, so I think we should stay a little longer. Besides, I'm the one with the amulet. You want to protect it, you have to follow me, not the other way around."

"Fine," Tom responded, tight-lipped. He turned and stormed out of the room.

"Fine," she yelled back, returning to her book.

* * *

Tom knew something was off the moment Helga told him to stay, and there was no way to leave without looking even more suspicious so he remained in the sitting room, drinking tea and doing his best to act like he had no idea what she was talking about.

"I know who you are, Tom," Helga began the second the front door closed. "Don't think I didn't recognize you the instant you entered my house."

"I don't know what you mean by that," Tom said evenly, meeting Helga's stern gaze.

"Of course you do, Tom Riddle," she replied. "You are the seventh Slytherin lord, _and _the youngest. You bear the ring with the Peverell crest, you've killed four of the other lords so far, and I've no doubt of your intentions concerning the rest, and, most importantly, Hermione _does not know_ who you are. Did I miss anything?"

The silence following her words was deafening. Tom set down his tea cup with an audible _clink_.

"You are correct," Tom relented after a pause, tilting his head to one side as he observed her. "Why are you telling me this?"

"Hermione is a very kind, generous young woman, and you are deceiving her!"

"I have never lied to her," Tom stated carefully. He had, of course, been aware of that fact the entire time the girl had been in his company, just for a moment like this. He remembered telling her that he worked in the castle…_technically true_, and that he had learned about the Slytherin King's death immediately…_because I was in the same room when he died_. Although he'd covered his tracks well, he had always thought it would be another of the Slytherin lords uncovering his secret rather than the last remaining Founder.

"Withholding the truth is the same thing! Don't you think she deserves to know? Or are you afraid that she won't consider you worthy of the amulet if she finds out who you really are?"

Tom's eyes narrowed. "Hermione does not need to know any of this. We have been doing fine without her awareness, and her knowing would only complicate matters."

"What was Salazar _thinking_, involving that girl like this? He really was an idiot," Helga grumbled.

"I couldn't agree more," Tom replied.

Helga snorted. "You believe your own lies, don't you? Very well, you leave me no choice. Either _you_ tell Hermione the truth, or I will."

Tom gritted his teeth. "And here I thought Salazar was the evil one."

"And do you plan on following his legacy?" Helga scoffed.

"You do not know who you are dealing with," Tom replied, fighting a losing battle with his self-control to keep his magic and temper in check.

"I know _exactly_ who I'm dealing with," she said. "A spoiled boy who doesn't know how to grow up and can't tell when he's in over his head."

"Go on, and I will see to it that you lose yours," Tom said.

"As I see it, _Hermione _is the one who truly deserves that crown. I'd pledge her my own kingdom if there was anything left to give."

"I will not let you get in my way," Tom replied, the sneer on his face deepening with each passing second as he stood up and walked towards the door. "I am done here."

"You would do well not to forget my promise," Helga called after him. She may be old, but she was still a founder, and he would be wise to not forget that fact.

_Either he tells Hermione the truth, or I will_.

* * *

A/N: I hope you like how I've introduced the Weasleys and Helga! Don't worry, there won't be any RW/HG in this story, Tom's the only man for her, haha. And there's a hidden reference to my other story _Thorns_ in this chapter; in both of the most recent chapters for each story Tom eats a cucumber sandwich xD I can imagine him liking them for some reason.

For any of you confused by the talisman/magic issue, let's review: This AU began with the idea of the magic in the air being condensed into objects rather than wands, and people could channel the magic in these objects however they wished. However, because so many people were creating or supplementing talismans, the magic became so thin that it is now impossible (that is also why apparition is impossible in this AU) and this is why the kingdoms are breaking down. Any questions/comments about this issue are welcome.

For anyone wondering, there is probably a Potter family out there somewhere, and the invisibility cloak is probably their talisman, but will they come into the story? No. But these won't be the last of the canon characters we'll see, but let me know what you think about these new characters! Reviews would be loved!

~Kako


	9. Chapter 9

Excelsior

A/N: Oh snap, an update! Took me long enough, yeah? xD Many of you were right on the ball with this chapter, plenty of interaction between Ron, Hermione, and Tom. Some anonymous review replies at the end!

Thanks to everyone who reviewed on Chapter Eight! Blueglaceon, Serpent in Red, xGabriellaxBoltonx, satoz, Coco96, starryeyesxo, Goon, Ceralyn, Lady Juice, xXx-ReBeCcA-xXx, patie, cupcake, GothicYandere95, NS, roksok, Ariel in Tempest, and MissImpossible!

* * *

_Recap of Chapter Eight:_

"_You would do well not to forget my promise," Helga called after him. She may be old, but she was still a founder, and he would be wise to not forget that fact._

_Either he tells Hermione the truth, or I will_.

* * *

Chapter Nine

Hermione clapped and cheered as the youngest redhead scored another goal, tossing the tough leather Quaffle past her brother, laughing as he fell against one of the goalposts in his attempt to stop the goal. He landed on the ground shakily and bent to pick up the Quaffle as Ginny and one of the twins returned to Hermione's side.

"Why won't you play with us?" Ginny implored. "We've got another old Cleansweep in the shed, if you want it. We don't want to leave you out of the game, you know."

"It's fine," Hermione said through a grin. "I don't mind cheering for you all. And besides, I _hate_ flying."

Her words brought a scandalized expression to the twin's face. "Hate flying? Are you _sure_ you're alright, Hermione? Haven't taken any stray Bludgers, have you?"

She shook her head. "No. Can you believe I'm more fond of _books_ than of _Bludgers_?"

"Have you visited our library?" Ginny asked encouragingly. "Our father collects non-magical books…seems like the sort of thing you might like, then."

Hermione gave her a half-nod. "I've been, but I didn't get a chance to really see what books you might have. Do you have anything on the Founders?"

The twin's face turned upwards in mock-thought. "I don't know—I believe the last time I was in the library I was naught but a toddler learning how to walk—and I was running away, if memory serves."

Ginny laughed, but Hermione gave him a stern scowl, refusing to acknowledge any joke that negatively involved books or their housing.

"You should spend some time in the library," Ginny told her. "From what I've heard, you've been through some pretty strange things, so just take some time for yourself."

"Thanks," Hermione replied. "I'll do that."

* * *

Tom sat on the top stair of the immense stairwell in the Weasley house, listening to the creaking of the old floorboards and trying to tune out the happy shouting and laughter from the field behind the house. He folded his hands over his knees, trying his best to relax in what was nearly the exact opposite of a comfortable situation, both physically and in the greater context of their journey.

This…this was a mistake. Tom had never admitted so much before, _ever_, but this time he had to admit that one small certainty. Bringing Hermione and himself to Hufflepuff was only setting them back—it would take them even longer to return to Slytherin, where he belonged, and in this village, with its annoyingly persistent _lack_ of danger, she was becoming less reliant on him. When he could protect her—when he had something to protect her from—he moved closer towards gaining her trust. She became less perceptive about _him_ and turned that brain of hers towards undoing their opponents. Now, with _Helga's _attention turned towards him…he had no doubt that she would make good on her promise, should the time or need arise. She had not become one of the Founders by _not_ being ingenious and decisive, and old age had not diminished her powers or her memory, unfortunately.

Tom was mulling over his options, realizing that Helga Hufflepuff thought she was caging him in, taking _away_ his opportunities—with the crown safe here, _no one_, not _any _of the other princes, could come near it. The kingdom would die. There would be civil unrest. Slytherin needed its monarch restored; it needed its amulet returned.

An astute smile tugged at Tom's mouth. Yes, he could not keep Hermione in the dark _forever_—she was far too bright for that—Helga thought she would be turning this entire charade over on _him_. Not at all—he would tell Hermione on _his_ terms.

First—he needed to know where he stood with her. He had spent the last week in her company, had saved her life on enough occasions that they should have grown past acting like strangers. He frowned, the laughter outside suddenly piercing through his focus to reach his ears. It was one of the Weasleys—they all laughed the same —but Hermione's high laughter joined them.

_They have just met…and already they are laughing together. She has never laughed with me_.

The thought did not sit well with him. If he was right, and he could draw Hermione's interest towards him, he would have the advantage. His news—and by extension, his deception—would not matter so much if she believed she knew his whole character, and believed him worthy of the amulet's power. And he would be the one to tell her—she would distrust him forever if the news came from another's speech. At most, he had a handful of days until they were both ready to leave again—he would consult a map, find the clearest way back towards Slytherin—and Hermione would be with him. He did not need her to win, but at the moment, he needed her trust. And if hers was anywhere near as difficult to obtain as his, he would need to get started right away.

* * *

"Hermione?"

"Hmm?"

She looked up from her book to find Ron Weasley settling himself into a nearby chair, magazine in hand.

"I thought I would come and keep you company," he said. "You don't have to be all by yourself down here."

She offered him a smile, lifting the paperback for him to see. "Thank you. This book is…not the most captivating"—the word _dull_ came to mind, with _boring_ following soon after, but Hermione had wanted to read something free of intellectual stimuli so her mind could relax completely, and it was impossible to think too heavily while reading one of Ginny's Muggle romance novels—"and I've almost fallen asleep three times. It'll be nice to get a break." She set the book by her side almost too quickly after dutifully bookmarking her page.

"What's wrong?" Hermione asked. Ron had been looking at her with the most peculiar expression, and his next words were as much a surprise to her as finishing them seemed to be for him.

"The entire family loves you, you know," he said. "We don't want you to have to leave to go and put yourself back in danger again. We want to give you the option of staying with us. That is, if you want to."

Hermione bit her lip, letting his words drift into silence. "I…I don't know. It's true, I like this place, very much…"

The Weasleys were a family—a _complete_ family—something Hermione had never had much experience with, and realized that she wanted that connection desperately after what little bit she'd been exposed to. They fit together so well, and she almost could see herself joining them, but she knew she would never truly be one of them, like a puzzle piece with one jagged edge that didn't quite line up to the rest.

"I can't," she said, her voice growing in strength the more she thought about it. "I have a responsibility…Slytherin himself charged me to see this through, and I _have_ to do it, for better or worse."

"It's because of _him_, isn't it? Tom?"

Hermione knew he was baiting her; she'd purposefully tried to block Tom out of her logic, but found that she couldn't ignore his presence in her life completely. "I can't abandon him."

"Why not?" Ron asked bluntly. "He doesn't need you."

"Don't say that!"

Hermione didn't know why she was defending him so quickly. "I can't just _abandon_ him," she repeated. "He wouldn't do that to _me_."

As she said it, she realized she _didn't_ know if he would or wouldn't—only that they had connected themselves together, him vowing to protect and follow the amulet, her deciding to follow him for his knowledge and protection. "Whatever happens, we're in this together."

_Like two adjoining puzzle pieces_, her mind prodded, refreshing her earlier metaphor.

"Slytherin isn't even _your_ kingdom!" he criticized. "Can't you just let someone else save it?"

She cracked a grin. "But I'm from Hogsmeade." And more seriously: "I have a chance to change things, by doing this. Slytherin _isn't_ my kingdom, but it's that kind of thinking that started the fighting and corrosion of _all_ the kingdoms in the first place."

"…Figures you'd say that. Mum knew you wouldn't go, but she said we had to ask, anyway."

They sat in companionable silence for a few minutes, Ron's fingers itching around the corners of the pages of his magazine. "So, what are you going to do now?" he asked.

She waved the paperback. "I'm going to finish this book."

* * *

Tom entered the library in the late afternoon, searching for Hermione. This had been the last place he'd checked in the house, although upon seeing her sprawled out on the sofa, fast asleep, he wondered why he hadn't checked that room first.

Upon seeing one of the multitude of red-heads—Ronald, if his memory was correct, which it often was—seated in one of the opposite armchairs, Quidditch magazine in his lap, he supposed that the irrationality of the situation he'd found himself trapped in and the idiocy of the town's dwellers seemed to be rubbing off on him; that could be the only explanation.

Ron seemed to be in no hurry to vacate the room or even move a muscle, so Tom wandered further into the room, picking up the first book he saw on a shelf at eye level.

"What do you want?" Ron asked him, sullenly.

"I wondered to myself," Tom said lightly, "why spend such a glorious day outside when I can spend it indoors in this oppressively unventilated room reading such an _interesting_ volume on," he paused, glancing at the title on the spine, "_suspension bridges_."

Ron flipped the pages in his magazine, and Tom could see the colorful images of broomsticks and regulation equipment over his shoulder. From the way the pages were creased, he'd obviously been reading the same magazine for some time. For having never exchanged a word with that particular Weasley before, Tom was wondering what the source of the redhead's ire was towards him, yet still couldn't resist the urge to provoke him.

"And _then_ I wondered to myself," Tom continued, enjoying the red-head's discomfort, "what in the name of _Hufflepuff_ would _you_ be doing in a place like this?"

"What do you mean by that?"

"This is a library," he told Ron, annunciating each word like he was stating the most obvious fact in the world.

"So?" He responded defensively.

"Do you even _know_ what a book is?" Tom said airily, flipping through the pages of the book in his hands. "They've got words, but I'm fairly certain we could find one at your level, with lots of pictures—"

"Go away, would you?" Ron cut him off. "I don't know why Hermione puts up with you."

"Hmm. Must be my magnetic charm," Tom answered, lowering his voice. "Besides, you're only here to keep me from her, correct?"

"Glad we have an understanding," Ron muttered, sinking further into his chair with his magazine.

"Think me a bad influence, do you?" Tom continued, settling himself into the only other available chair, placed against the windows. It put him at a farther distance from Hermione, but it still gave him a good enough view of the two of them and the door in case someone else decided that the bearer of _his_ amulet needed yet _another_ chaperone.

Ron mumbled something about "_idiots who ask rhetorical questions_," but Tom's smirk only grew wider as he crossed his legs and opened the book, his eyes glancing to Hermione twice, the first to see what she was reading—a muggle romance novel propped up on one of the matching pillows—and the second because her choice of sleeping position was showing off quite a bit of her legs and he was enjoying the view immensely.

"Hmm, what's wrong, kneazle got your tongue?" Tom asked, flipping another few pages.

"I don't know what your game is, or why you're here," Ron began, "but we've all begun to think of Hermione like our sister, so if you hurt her in any way you'll be sorry."

"Thank you for your undeniably well-endeavored warning," Tom replied. "I will sleep in fear tonight, knowing that _Ronald Weasley _wishes me ill."

Ron shot him a disgruntled look, turning back to his magazine as Tom leaned back comfortably in his chair.

Completely oblivious, Hermione curled deeper into the side of the sofa, still fast asleep.

* * *

When Hermione woke up, her limbs were heavy and her mind more than a little groggy from the long nap, noticing first that the sky was much darker, and that Tom was in the room with her. She sat up, wincing and rubbing the side of her head with one hand to try to alleviate some of the disorientation.

"Where's Ron?" She asked.

The scowl on Tom's face developed into a smirk. "The lure of dinner turned out to be too much for Ronald Weasley to handle."

"…What?"

"Never mind," he said quickly. "How are you feeling?"

"I shouldn't have slept so long," she mumbled. "Why did no one wake me up?"

"You needed your sleep," Tom stated evenly.

"The Weasley's invited me to stay here with them." The words tumbled out of Hermione's mouth, and she watched the way Tom's eyes widened and the harsh set of his jaw loosened for just the tiniest moment in surprise.

Panic—Tom had never felt it so strongly. "And you said…"

"I said no, of course," she responded.

Relief—it left his arms tingling and his head oddly weightless. Confusion followed swiftly. "Why?" He had to know.

"I made a promise to Salazar," she said. "And to you, although not as direct. I'd never forgive myself if I didn't see this through."

"That makes two of us." So she would stay with him, even after the promise of what the Weasley's could offer. That was a start—a good start.

"Come with me," Tom said. "Let's take a walk."

She found herself agreeing with surprising swiftness, following Tom through the main level of the house. He held the back door open for her, and together they walked across the vast expanse of grass before them. The sky was a much deeper color of blue with the late hour, the edges fringed with the deep red of the setting sun, sinking into the horizon even as they watched —as the westernmost kingdom, they would be the last to see the sun that day.

"It's nice out," Tom said casually.

Hermione snorted. "So, what do you _really _want to talk about?"

"Whatever do you mean by that?" Tom kept a suitably innocent expression about him, even as the corners of his mouth threatened a smirk. She was a smart girl, he couldn't fault her for her intelligence.

"You're talking about the _weather_—that's a clear sign you mean something else entirely. That, and whatever it is, _clearly _you don't want to bring it up in front of the others." She paused. "So, what is it?"

Tom scowled. "Am I that easy to read?"

She gave him a very familiar smirk. "Like a book."

His scowl intensified. "Then, tell me what I'm going to say, since you know _everything_ now, don't you?"

She couldn't help laughing. "Well, you're finally admitting it, that's nice—"

"Be _serious_, for a moment—" Tom spluttered, fighting the conflicting urges to laugh at his companion or give her a very strong, magically-supplemented shove in the opposite direction. He settled for a thin smile; Hermione was finally comfortable enough around him to be laughing with him—_at _him, he corrected sourly—and if she was laughing, she was happy. If she was happy, she wouldn't get angry at him. And the more Tom thought about it, the more he wanted her happiness after all of this was concluded and finished. It…mattered to him in a way that it never had before. Yes, it was convenient, but now it was necessary. He respected her enough for that—he owed her enough for that.

"Well, if I had to guess…" Hermione tapped her chin in thought, her teasing grin dropping when she caught Tom's serious expression. He looked…weighed down, if his shifting posture and solemn gaze were any indication. His posture was normally impeccable under even the worst of conditions, but now his shoulders slumped—just barely, but it was enough for Hermione to notice. She supposed that their journey must have affected each of them in different ways, and his must have been his exhaustion, both physically and mentally.

"Do you remember," he began slowly, "what you asked me, before we arrived here?"

"Yes," she answered on habit before taking a few moments to remember more clearly. "I asked you…for information. You knew something I didn't. I asked you to tell me what was really going on."

"What have you been able to put together since then?" His voice was low and even as he walked the few paces to put himself by her side.

"You know more about the people chasing us than you've been letting on. You know more about this amulet—the source of Slytherin's power. You couldn't tell me, then."

She looked up at him. "Can you tell me, now?"

Tom managed another thin smile. "That's not all you asked, you know."

"I know."

Tom's lips curved upward at the slightly petulant tone to her voice. Of course she would remember—she worked in a bookstore, didn't she? Her brain was probably one giant encyclopedia.

"I asked if you trusted me," she said. "You're taking your good, sweet time giving me an answer on that one, you know."

"I had much to think about," Tom replied.

By now it had grown completely dark, although Hermione hadn't noticed until that moment. Tom's profile looked even harsher in the lack of light, his black hair and dark eyes seeming to blend into the shadows, and Hermione had to blink twice before her eyes adjusted.

"Do I have it? Do I have your trust?" She asked him. "Why is trust so important to you?"

He stared at her. "If it helps," he said, finding that his mouth had grown suspiciously dry, "you have mine."

Hermione startled, staring at him in turn. She knew—this was not something he would give lightly. In the space of two days, what could possibly have changed in his eyes to warrant this?

"If it helps what?" She asked, the initial suspicion of her own in her voice easing into curiosity.

He sighed, rubbing one hand across the back of his neck. "You're not going to like this," he said shortly.

"_What _am I not going to like?"

Tom had so far been pleased with how he had handled the situation. Delicately, carefully, setting up the near-perfect moment to deliver his royal bombshell. So far she had not questioned his slow-paced information delivery process, and he didn't know why that made him so pleased, so _relieved_—and he knew he was close. He _would_ prove them all wrong, Helga Hufflepuff most of all.

"Just…remember what you just said."

Hermione waited for his words, and with her paused the rest of the world as the wind ceased and the rustling of tree branches and leaves calmed.

"The amulet must be given to one of the princes of Slytherin, to crown him king," Tom began, watching Hermione's eyes for her reaction.

"I am the seventh prince of Slytherin."

It was as if someone had slugged her in the stomach—someone who _knew _how to throw a punch. Hermione stared at Tom in disbelief, realizing after a moment of silent gaping that she had been holding her breath this entire time.

"I must have misheard you," she said with a feeble laugh. "I could have sworn you just said _you _were a prince of Slytherin."

"I can see your mind working," Tom said. "Already you're thinking about how much sense this makes. How many holes this fills in. You know it's true."

"…you…" Hermione can manage nothing more as one hand reaches up to the amulet around her neck, staring at the intricately wrought silver before swerving her eyes back towards Tom's.

"Is that it, then? You've brought me out here to take it from me? To kill me, like you've done with everyone else who has tried to interfere with your plans?" She wrapped her arms around herself. "It makes so much sense. You must think me such a fool."

"No." And Tom surged forward, one hand grasping her shoulder to pull her arms away from their comforting, defeated embrace. "I'm telling you now because I want you to know."

_Among other reasons_, he reminded himself—but this still came first. For this moment, Hermione came first.

"Why? You still want the amulet—you want to be King."

"Yes," he responded easily. "But I want you to see me worthy of it."

He couldn't believe what he was even saying—when had he ever been this sentimental? But it was working, and Tom swallowed any conflicting impulses and merely stood there, his right hand wrapped around Hermione's left arm for what consolation he could offer her. He saw the look in her eyes.

"You must hate me."

Once again, Tom had managed to floor Hermione with only the force of his words.

"I could never hate you."

His humorless laugh made her even more willing to prove him wrong. "Look at what I've done to you, Hermione," he said. "How I've deluded you."

"You've never lied to me," she said carefully. He couldn't help the upward quirk of his lips at that. _So she _had _picked up on it, after all? Smart girl. _

"I just never asked the right questions," she finished.

Tom sighed again, a growing sense of triumph and success building deep in his chest. "I suppose I can never get away with anything again, after this."

She returned his grin with an all-too-familiar smirk of her own, however fleeting it was. "Don't think you're forgiven. This is still…a bit of a shock."

"What, the thought never crossed your mind that my superior bearing led to a royal background? I'm hurt."

A grin returned to her mouth. "Prince Tom…well, _that _doesn't have much of a ring to it. _King _Tom…even less, I think." She wrinkled her nose. "At least you're better than _Rodolphus_, anyway. Are the rest of the Slytherin princes that bad? Present company excluded, of course."

"Worse, actually," he said. "You'll probably get a chance to find out for yourself."

_So, it's back to teasing, are we? _His elation had reached the tree-tops, not that he had bothered with reigning in any of his natural mannerisms or reactions once she knew his true identity. If she was to accept him, she would accept all of him, nothing less. Hopping from one lie to another would not be a wise move, and he was sure that he had just sealed all doubts in her mind about his past choices and his future intentions concerning the amulet, and by extension, its bearer.

"I understand the power of the amulet," Hermione said. "You're not ready for it yet."

Tom nodded. "Then I will just have to keep it and you safe until that moment comes."

Hermione was glad for the darkness that hid her blush at his words. Yes, he had always taken a keen interest in protecting her for the sake of protecting the amulet, but now it seemed too…personal.

"It can protect itself," she countered wryly. "I can protect myself."

"Of course you can." Tom knew better than to disagree with her, especially when he finally had things working in his favor with regards to the significant progress in her acceptance of him. The amulet had chosen _her _as its bearer, but it went beyond that. Tom wanted to protect her. Him, and no one else. He wanted her to know him like no one else could ever claim—_all _of him, the good and the bad, and to still want to be near him even after she had seen it all.

For the first time Tom wondered if maybe Salazar knew exactly what he was doing all along.

* * *

A/N: Again, apologies for the extended wait! I hope this chapter makes up for it! =) As always, reviews would be much loved!

~Kako

_Anonymous review replies:_

NS: Yup. Ron isn't romantically interested in Hermione here per se, but he is still protective of her, and _overprotective _Tom doesn't like that much. Of course, he would misinterpret things xD I'll see what I can do about throwing in some more Hermione and Ron interaction, but nothing that would get in the way of the coming HG/TR fluff_, _of course!

roksok: I WILL FINISH IT! (I had to all-caps there xD) Eventually! It will happen! I can do it! =) Thank you, though. Reviews are great for my motivation-they remind me that there's people out there who (someday) expect me to finish!


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